It's Not Easy Being Green: The frog and snake fic
by Flittermouse
Summary: In the beginning, Hermione was transformed into a frog and Snape into a snake. One botched spell later Hermione is now a snake and it's mating season! Time travelling offspring. Ghostly prophecies and a mission to save the world! HGAF, SSHG
1. Default Chapter

DISCLAIMER: 

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

It's Not Easy Being Green

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

Hermione was a frog. She had not always been a frog, two days earlier she was a normal seventeen year old in the throes of exam panic running late from the library to Advanced Charms class when a shower of sparks, followed by a thud of books and 'poof' found her transformed into a small green and yellow-bellied amphibian without a care in the world.

She quickly realised she had been transformed - not a sudden flash of animagus ability or a smooth transfiguration, but permanently changed from one thing to another. Every good witch and wizard knew that transfigurations had a terminal lifespan, two days of being something 'so small' after being something 'so large' was unheard of. She had been transformed and she needed the counter curse to reverse it or she could be stuck in the _froggy_ way forever.

Being a frog was not all that bad. It was early summer and the temperature was pleasant. The insects hiding in Hogwarts dank corners were numerous and succulent. Hermione felt no disgust over her sudden tendency to salivate and croak in delight at the site of an arachnid or fly. She had always been a pragmatic girl. On the bright side, such simple fulfilment as seeing food, eating food, and sitting dozing in the sunshine with a full tummy and sublime smile on your face seemed the closet thing to bliss she had ever experienced.

However, two days was a long time for a small creature with a fast metabolism and a young woman's brain. Two days and nights of thinking _froggy_ thoughts and cleverly avoiding Mrs Norris claws and hisses was getting old very fast, there was, unfortunately a limit to the idyll.

Feeling lonely Hermione glumly hopped up and down the corridors of Hogwarts waiting for someone to notice that Hermione Granger – meddlesome '_know it all'_ and all round large, cumbersome witch and Head Girl had vanished. But all her fellow students either appeared too busy chattering about the upcoming exams, each other or Quidditch that they did not notice her absence or nearly stepped on her when she hopefully hopped up to them. 

By the end of the second day Hermione was getting desperate. _She could not go on like this!_

She spent most of the afternoon basking on a windowpane in a sliver of sunlight and devising a cunning plan. By half past three she was in position, lying in wait to execute it. Finally the telltale vibration of chairs being shoved back and the trample of feet told her it was time. Patiently she waited as a sea of faces swept past her, the last class of the day was over and the students were on their way to an early dinner. Choosing her moment and victim with care Hermione released the suction hold on the glass, performed a world-class Olympic quality half-piked somersault and landed with an audible splat on Lavender Brown's pasty neck as the girl swept past with Ginny Weasley by her side. 

Being a scientist in training, Hermione knew that the result of any action was an equal and opposite reaction. Or more simply: a frog to the neck leads to a quick, yet violent sympathetic drive to 'fright and flight'; a complimentary world-class sympathetic 'fight and flight response' in Lavender's case.

Hermione clung on to Lavender as she flapped and shrieked down the hallway. Lying low as they dashed into the Great Hall just as most of the school was just sitting down to the first course of dinner. Trying her best to dodge flailing hands and closing her eyes to a spinning world. Hermione prayed Lavender would not stop panicking and start thinking or else all would be lost. There was no danger of that as Lavender continued to twirl about like a spinning top, flinging her hair and hands and screaming incoherent obscenities about Neville Longbottom's and Trevor's parentage. 

"What is the meaning of this?" A very loud and scary male voice made the diaphragms at Hermione's ear holes vibrant painfully.

The world stilled for a moment and Hermione could feel the pounding of Lavender's pulse beneath her soft belly.

"Oh no…" She heard Lavender's soft plea.

More in fright Hermione released her hold and flew through the air to plop down into a lukewarm bowl of what tasted suspiciously like mushroom soup.

Feeling dizzy and nauseous… Hermione felt herself being levitated up and held in mid air.

She opened her eyes, extended her long tongue to lick her eyeballs clean and gazed into a pair of slanted angry black eyes beneath incredibly hairy black caterpillar eyebrows.

"Headmaster?" The same loud male voice growled making her tremble, the caterpillars drew together and a line formed between them. "There appears to be a frog in my soup!"

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

A funny thought that became a story, should I continue?


	2. part 2

Part Two

DISCLAIMER: 

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

"That is a very unusual frog." Albus Dumbledore commented as he peered over his glasses at the small amphibian, which was still held aloft on the end of Snape's spoon.

"Indeed." Professor Snape agreed. "It enjoys soup and…" He stared at it with a frown on his face. "I swear the thing is looking at me!"

"Yes, and why not?" Albus muttered, hovering a finger over the frogs back. "As I said _this_ is no ordinary frog…" Snape watched the Head Master's arthritic finger wriggle above the frog in hypnotic circles. 

"Children!"  The old wizard's shout made Snape start in his seat. Flustered he blinked to see the old man turning away to lift his hands and draw the attention of the student body. "I believe there is some mischief afoot." 

Dumbledore absently waved a trembling hand toward the frog. "It would appear that our Head Girl Hermione Granger has not been called away home as we previously thought," He took a wheezing breath. "She has in fact been transformed into a frog." He stared down at the Slytherin table and fixed Malfoy with an intense intimidating glare. "Would anyone know how or why this unfortunate event has occurred?"

As to be expected there was no immediate answer, it was Ron Weasley jumping to his feet and shouting obscenities at Malfoy that broke the momentary lull. This was quickly followed a general uproar.  Everyone seemed to be talking at once and arching his or her necks trying to see the tiny frog perched on the bowl of Snape's soupspoon, everyone except Draco Malfoy, who sat quietly, fixing Dumbledore with a cool steady look that, did not waver. 

At the teacher's table all of the Professor's were horrified, not the least Snape, who seemed more put out about a female Gryffindor being in his soup than some common all garden frog. He did manage to maintain enough control to continue hold the spoon aloft and then gently lower it to the table. 

Obligingly the instant it contacted the worn wooden surface Hermione hopped off the spoon. In proper froggy fashion she shook her legs to dispatch the last of the sticky soup, before sitting down to ponder at her teachers.

Flitwick, Sinstra and Snape's faces returned her study. They gazed down at her in wonder. She smugly peered back up at them blinking slowly in an effort to show off her beautiful yellow eyes. 

_Yes, see I am a frog._ She tried to tell them. _I had nothing to do with my transformation, but_ _aren't I a clever witch?_

Snape's face moved closer as if in accusation. _How dare you be a frog in my soup!_  

Hermione cringed inwardly at the intrusion. The expansiveness of Snape's nostrils, the curled nostril hair, the black heads and the small patch of whiskers he had missed shaving made her shudder. His breath buffeted her, cooling her shiny green skin and she it surprised that it did not stink considering the poor state of his teeth. She could almost sense the urge the wizard had to prod her with his fork, but thankfully Snape resisted.

"Very well!" The Head Master's voice rang out and the great Hall fell into silence. "I see no alternative but to have Miss Granger transferred to the care of Madam Pomfrey until the culprit - or culprits - find it within themselves to come forward. Professor Snape?" He glanced back at the Potion's Master who shot upright in his chair and nodded his head. "A word please."

"It will be alright, Hermione." Dumbledore reassured her as he came back to the table. "Severus? Would you kindly escort Miss Granger to the infirmary."

"Me?"

"Yes Severus, you. Madam Pomfrey is not here and Minerva is in the midst of exam preparation."

Hermione could tell that Snape was not impressed by the request; he flounced back his hair and was about to say something contrary when Dumbledore stopped him with a simple word. "Malfoy."

"Malfoy?" Snape glanced over the Head Master's head and squinted thoughtfully at Draco.

"He did this, Severus. For reasons best kept to himself I dare say. I think as a show of staff solidarity it would be best if you removed Hermione to the infirmary."

Before Snape could rise to the argument another shout erupted from the Gryffindor table. The teaching staff snapped their attention to see the rising forms of students.

"Oh dear…" Albus' concerned whisper was met by a parting of the crowd and Snape tilted his head in disbelief as a small pink pig trotted forward. "Could you escort Lavender Brown to the hospital wing as well?"

"What about Potter?" Snape muttered, aware that Ron and Harry were barely containing themselves, itching to spring up from their seats and do something  -anything 'heroic'.

"They are not used to handling delicate situations." Dumbledore muttered, stroking his beard. "I will talk to them later."

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

"This is a fine kettle of fish." Madam Pomfrey huffed as the frog gently hopped from Snape's outstretched fingers onto her desk and the pig primly sat down before her. "Hermione Granger and Lavender Brown I presume?" 

The Mediwitch looked up to Snape as she put on some latex gloves and asked, "Did you discover Hermione making Polyjuice again, Severus? I thought you would have learnt from that mistake my girl."

"No." Snape said simply. "It appears Miss Granger and Miss Brown are under the influence of a transformation spell."

"Oh…" Madam Pomfrey's face fell and her mouth opened into an 'o' of surprise. "I suppose Albus expects me to perform a miracle and reverse it for them?"

"I have no idea, Madam." Snape impatiently wrapped his cloak about him and with a flourish began to swirl away. "If you'll excuse me?"

"Professor Snape?" Madam Pomfrey called out after him. "You are aware that some transformation spells-" She was interrupted by an audible pop and thud… "Are transmitted by touch for up to seventy two hours after casting?" She gazed down at the writhing shape of an angry blackadder on her hospital floor.

"Oh dear." She gazed from the small perky frog to the bored pig and finally the medium sized snake, which was beginning to rear back and glare up at her with furious beady eyes. She could not help but smile, but caution being the better side of valour she put her hand to her mouth and struggled to hold back a hysterical fits of giggles, "Oh dear me."

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

tbc


	3. part 3

Part Three

DISCLAIMER: 

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

"Madam Pomfrey!" Harry and Ron's cries rang out over the infirmary producing an adrenalin producing rush. "Madam Pomfrey, come here quick!"

The Mediwtich dropped the vial she was decanting, stared at Dumbledore to whom she had been talking and ran over to the two teenagers in a flurry of robes and starched pinnifore. "What on earth is it boys?" 

Ron Weasley, looking slightly green stepped back, clutched Pomfrey's arm and begged. "Please stop it!" 

Madam Pomfrey considered the stricken red head with a frown and was about to tell him off for shouting about a situation she could do little about, when the Head Master's quiet sigh stopped her. 

"Oh…" Albus murmured exclamation caught her attention. Clearly this was not about the permanence of transformation spells. "Step aside Harry, there's a good chap, allow Poppy to handle this."

Harry Potter obediently moved aside to reveal the sunny diorama of an infirmary tabletop... and the horrific scene being played out upon it.

"Snape's eating Hermione!"  Harry's mouth was slightly agape and his eyes widened in shock behind his glasses. He gulped, looked bilious and carefully repeated the words. "Snape is eating … Hermione?"

Instantly Pomfrey fumbled on a pair of heavy latex gloves and nodded. "You boys go and stand over there by Lavender."  The boys retreated to the small pen in which a pig was stretched out, fast asleep and snoring on a nest of hay.

"One minute Hermione was chirping, the next that thing's -!" Ron pointed a shaky finger of accusation at Snape, "Eating her!"

Poppy gingerly grasped the end of the adder's coiled tail and slid it across the table, hoping not to startle the creature into clamping it's jaws shut and bisecting the protruding body of the little green frog that was Hermione Granger. 

Dumbledore stroked his beard and mused. Of all the untimely deaths at Hogwarts, death by ingestion by snake was hardly becoming for a Head Girl. What would he tell the parents?

"Professor Snape! I really must protest!" Poppy gripped the snake's head and scolded it.  

By her tone of voice she was hoping to remind Snape that he a transformed wizard and a man not a reptile (contrary to popular opinion) and such behaviour was both undignified and uncalled for.  "For the last two days all you've done is sulk in your cage. Filch brings you mice and you refuse them. Eating Hermione Granger is not an option!" 

Gently yet persistently she tapped his head until Snape grumpily opened his jaw and allowed the small frog to plop down onto the tabletop.

"Is she alright?" Ron asked nervously, as he and Harry approached the table.

"I think so." Dumbledore said as he gazed down upon the flatten amphibian. He smiled as the frog puffed herself upright and appeared to nod her head. "I apologise Hermione for Professor Snape's lack of control. It's been a strain for all of us."

"A strain? You try to get Severus to try any of my potions! His such a baby." Poppy put Snape back into his glass cage and lowered a heavy lid down on top of it. The small snake slid angrily away and coiled up in a corner with its face to the wall. "Eat a mouse, Severus." She told him, but he ignored her.  She added sweetly, "If you eat a mouse you can sun yourself tomorrow." 

Poppy looked up at Dumbledore and shrugged. "I give up. There's little I can do. All the texts and experts say is that the curse has to be reversed by the person who cast it."

"Ah yes…" Albus nodded. "We live in hope that the boy will develop a conscience."

Harry and Ron exchanged meaningful looks. "You know who did this?"

"Sadly yes." Dumbledore nodded. "But forcing him to do the right thing may be a worse consequence. Magic is such a tenuous thing it needs to be performed voluntarily or not at all. Anything else is-"

"As bad as you-know-who." Pomfrey finished, removing the gloves and folding her hands before her. "Come now boys, I think Hermione's had enough of a visit today."

"I'll say." Ron murmured. "Her parents may be dentists but I bet they don't that up close and personal with their clients mouths."

Harry screwed up his nose at the thought of Hermione inside Snape's mouth. Ewwww! "I think Hermione would appreciate a good long swim, Madam Pomfrey." He said as he led Ron toward the door.

"I'll see to it Harry." She smiled and watched them go filling up a small bowl of water at the sink and putting it on the table. "There you are Hermione. Listen to Harry and do a couple of laps." She watched Hermione painfully hop over to a small bowl of water and jump into it with a tiny splash. "Good girl."

Returning to Dumbledore, she led him away from her 'patients' and murmured. "Albus we can't keep going on like this. It's hardly fair on any of them. Frogs eat flies, pigs eat slop and adders eat live vermin. The mice Filch provides are dead and if Severus' sees a small animal his predatory instincts will always win out. The longer they stay in their animal form the more like the creatures they become."

"I have spoken to Mr Malfoy." Albus softly confessed, "But he is unwilling to help. I can only hope he will see how devastating this is for his house, but I hold little hope." The Head Master had wandered over to Snape's glass aquarium; he tapped the glass cage and spoke. "Severus?"

Snape uncoiled his tail and angled his head to look up at the man. "Please try to remember that for you chewing and spitting out students is acceptable behaviour, but digesting them is not." Dumbledore told him. "Do you understand?" 

Sullenly the small snake nodded its head. 

"Good." Albus nodded. "I'd offer you a lolly but I doubt you would appreciate it." He smiled. "Swallow your pride and eat a mouse, Severus. Mrs Norris says they're very good…" he began to move away, but stopped. "Oh and when you're back to normal I expect you to fully apologise to Miss Granger!"

Snape slitted his black eyes, flicked his forked tongue and expletively hissed. "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhsshhhhhhhhhhh."

Albus exhaled in exasperation, "Once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin."

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

tbc


	4. part 4

Part Four

DISCLAIMER: 

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

It was at lunch that same day that a lightning bolt struck Ronald Weasley, not literally of course, but figuratively. The spoon dropped from his hand and his eyes lit up with that internal illumination only a truly brilliant idea could inspire.

"Harry?" He asked, "You can speak snake, can't you?"

  
"Oh no." Harry defensively hunched his shoulders looked about the table and whispered. "Ron I don't want the world to know."

Ron looked at him with a puzzled expression, "But… the world already knows. Come on Harry, you could-"

  
"No." 

Ron paused, his eyes lowered and mouth closed – for a moment. "Harry?" He looked up, "Have you tried to speak to Snape?"

Harry looked at Ron in disbelief, "Ron, no."

  
"Harry? Not one little hiss?"

"Ron? The only time I've seen Snape was when he had Hermione in his mouth!"

"So he couldn't talk and you haven't tried? Brilliant!" Ron leaned forward in his seat and nodded, "We're going to the infirmary right after Flying class. He might know something."

"We know it all already!" Harry said, looking over at the Slytherin table where Draco Malfoy was quietly eating his dinner. "If Dumbledore can't force Draco to become a decent human being, we have no chance. Besides Snape won't help us, on a matter of principle." 

Ron was becoming dismayed, it was looking like his truly brilliant idea was fizzling away, "But Harry?"

  
"No Ron." His friend repeated firmly, "I won't do it and no one can force me to!"

"Mr Potter?" Harry and Ron looked up from their conversation into the benign face of Albus Dumbledore. "A word please…"

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

Ron almost skipped down the moving staircases on the way to the infirmary, Harry grumpily beside of him and Dumbledore regally behind. By the time the trio had reached the infirmary Harry's was irked. He stomped into the ward only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight that greeted him. 

Professor Flitwick sat on a high stool at one of the workbenches, clasping a large wand in one hand and using the other to trace the ancient words on the aged parchment. His stumpy legs were stuck straight out in front of him as he read from the enormous book, whose size further emphasised his diminutive stature. Snape was twisted about Flitwick's neck like a black silk scarf, his head bobbing back and forth as he read the text while on top of Flitwick's feathered hat sat a small green frog chirping happily.

"Hermione?" Harry sputtered in astonishment. "Professor?"

"Ah Harry, good, good." Flitwick looked up and smiled, reaching bodily over the huge book to grasp a page and begin to turn it over. Snape slithered from his neck to his arm and stopped him with a quick tightening of his body. "Something of interest Severus?" The small professor noted, then looking up he frowned at the boys. "Where's the Head Master?"

  
"Right here Phineas." Dumbledore puffed. "I see Severus is assisting you. All for the good."

"Thank you Harry, for coming." Professor Flitwick said as the boys approached the workbench, Ron warily eyeing Snape and then the seemingly oblivious Hermione with concern. "I think Professor Snape has a few comments to make."

  
"I bet." Ron muttered and Harry shot him a meaningful look.

Dumbledore interceded before anything else could be said. "Harry as a parselmouth I ask you to please talk to Professor Snape."

Harry looked at the small black snake that had lifted its head and was staring at him with black multifaceted eyes. He gulped, cleared his throat and said. "Hello Professor."

"Potter."

Harry's eyes flicked to Hermione on Flitwick's hat and back to Snape. "We've just had lunch… and you?"

"I'm not going to discuss my appetites with you Mr Potter." Snape hissed. "Could you tell Flitwick to read the third paragraph down and note the reference to potions? In addition, there is a very important footnote three pages back about the spell."

Harry coolly repeated what Snape had said and watched as Flitwick struggled the pages back and forth, struggled through the Old English, stirred on his seat and became quite animated. "It could work. It just might do it."

"What is it?" Dumbledore asked, peering over his glasses at the text.

"Yeah." Ron said, his brow wrinkling. "What is it? I can't read it."

  
"Oh dear Circe in heaven." Snape replied. "It's in Urdu, you dunderhead, one of the languages of Persia. Why on earth the Weasley's were ever allowed to procreate-" Snape grumbled, adding fiercely. "Do _not_ bring you infantile friends with you next time Potter, this is serious!"

"What did he say?" Ron asked.

"Umm? Urdu."

"What? Hairdo? But Snape's a snake? What's a snake got to worry about hairstyles for? Not that he did when he was normal, well normal for Snape anyway."

"U-r-d-u, you imbecilic illiterate dolt!"

"No. It's in Urdu. It's a language."

"Can Snape read Oddo?"

"No."

"Urdu, Ron. U-r-d-u."

  
"I wouldn't be surprised if he could." Flitwick puffed as he marked the pages with scraps of paper.

"No, I cannot read Urdu!"

"He can't." Dumbledore and Harry replied simultaneously. 

"Oh." Flitwick and Ron said in unison.

"How does he know its Urdu then?" Ron asked.

Snape hissed something Harry could not translate before adding. "Get Pince to translate the referenced spell. It can be used in conjunction with a potion. Now go away. All of you, I have a headache."

Snape slid from Flitwick's arm across the workbench to a radiator beneath the window.

"Where's he going?" Ron asked.

"He said Pince could translate the spell."

They watched Snape curl up on the windowsill, the tip of his tail trembling as he pretended to fall asleep.

"Does this mean Hermione will be back to normal soon?" Ron asked.

Flitwick looked between the Head Master and the snake on the windowsill and shrugged. "It's hard to say, young Weasley. Depends on how quickly we can translate this incantation."

"And make the potion." Dumbledore mulled this over. "I used to be a dab hand at potions making in my day." He pulled on a strand of his beard, his voice wistful. "One of the best, if not _the_ best in Britain."

  
Harry noticed that Snape's stopped moving his tail at this; instead it stiffened and eloquently slapped down in disgust. 

Dumbledore and Harry shared a hidden smile.

"Very good, Harry." Dumbledore winked at him, putting a hand on his shoulder and leading him toward the door. "Thank you for your assistance with this matter. We may call on you later."

"Could we say hello to Hermione?" Ron asked before he could leave, pointing at Flitwick's hat. 

"What?" Flitwick asked dismayed."

"Sorry Professor." Ron tentatively lifted the hat off his baldhead, Flitwick 's woolly eyebrows rising as he put the hat down. 

They smiled as the little frog hopped off the hat and sat on the workbench looking up at them eagerly.

"Hello Hermione." Ron said, "Want to hear the latest from 'Quidditch World'?"

The little frog lowered her head; shook it twice, rolled onto her back and weakly kicked a leg in the air. 

"I'll take that as a 'no'." Ron pouted.

"I would." Dumbledore chuckled. "Come along boys, you've got classes waiting. You may visit later if Madam Pomfrey allows it." 

"Potter!" Harry stopped to see Snape's sinuous black body outlined against the glare of the window. "Ask Dumbledore to bring me my copy of '_Weorcen Pocion_' volumes five to seventeen."

"_' Weorcen Pocion_?"

"What was that Harry?" The Head Master asked as they continue to stroll.

"He would like volumes four-"

"Five!"

"Five to seventeen."

  
Dumbledore waved at Snape with a benevolent hand. "A little light reading, Severus? Consider it done my friend."

"Better light reading." Ron quipped. "Than Hermione as a light snack!"

"Indeed my young wizards." Dumbledore reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of something. "Ah, bad taste I suppose, but chocolate frog anyone?"

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

tbc


	5. part 5

Part Five

DISCLAIMER: 

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

Four days later the potion was made, the spell translated and the cast of participates assembled.

Harry stood tiredly beside Madam Pomfrey; his shoulders slumped and face morose. The NEWTs were upon him and this little sideline into advanced counter spells was draining. He had had enough of acting as Snape's translator and censor. The Professor's sarcasm and anger had intensified the longer he stayed a snake; the animal within slowly yet surely taking over. The only thing that kept Harry from clamping his mouth shut and refusing to cooperate further was the thought of Hermione and Lavender being stuck forever as a Kermit and Miss Piggy. 

"Ready Harry?" Pomfrey patted Harry's arm sympathetically; she knew it had been a difficult time for everyone concerned.

He nodded at her then to Flitwick and Dumbledore, as they stood about the workbench in tense silence.

Snape looked up from one of his potion texts to eye the bottle of potion Dumbledore had placed on the table before him.

"It appears adequate." He hissed, his voice strained… it was taking him longer to find the words. "It must be performed in reverse order. Miss Granger first."

Harry glanced at the little frog in the small fish bowl that was now her home. She floated in the water like a leaf, her arms and legs splayed out, her expression blank. Harry's mouth thinned and his eyes hardened. This was getting too hard to do. Ron had cut down his visits, he too sensed that Hermione was slipping away.

"Shall we begin?" He asked.

Snape assented. "Have Pomfrey give Miss Granger some of the potion, the instant she swallows it chant the spell with Flitwick."

Harry waited while Pomfrey put on some gloves and caught a reluctant and slippery Hermione. Meanwhile Dumbledore found an eyedropper and drew up some of the potion and Flitwick flexed his shoulders; his wand trembling. Taking the eyedropper from the Head Master, Pomfrey poised it over Hermione's mouth and gently wriggled the tip in and squirted. "Now!" She commanded.

Harry lifted his wand and aimed it at the small frog clutched between the Mediwitch's finger and thumb and began to recite from the scroll of parchment. Beside him he could distantly hearing the muttering voices of Dumbledore and Flitwick as they did the same.

Amazingly (it always surprised Harry) the magic began to be woven. His eyebrows lifted in wonder as Hermione started to glow, a small emerald light that cast a green glow over Madam Pomfrey's hand. Her golden eyes shot out rays of white light and her mouth opened in a silent croak. 

Only three more lines of the spell to go…

The salty itch of sweat prickled under Harry's arms and he felt rivulets run down his side.

"Concentrate Potter!" Snape's words slashed across his mind.

Harry felt a flash anger. He blinked and gritted his teeth, spitting out the last line only to instantly want it back. Regret etching every line of his face. 

"No!"  Harry had spoken in parsel tongue. He had said the last line of the counter charm in snake.

The magic did not care; replete it surged forth from the three upraised wands and converged on the body of the little frog.

"You idiot boy!" Snape seethed, twisting his body in absolute fury. "I will have your wand for this!"

"Oh Harry…" Flitwick looked at him with a mixture of dismay and sympathy.

Dumbledore for once said nothing; he just looked at Madam Pomfrey's gloved hands with a mildly startled expression, his wand dropping to his side.

"Hermione?" Harry husked out her name watching the glowing frog twist and bulge and change.

A loud pop exploded in the air and the spell was over. Everyone reluctantly looked down at Pomfrey's hands to see a length of green nylon rope… that moved.

"She's a snake!" Flitwick excitedly hopped off the stool and came up to gaze at the writhing creature in Pomfrey's hand. 

Dumbledore looked down his nose at the pretty green reptile. "More precisely she is a grass snake, Phineas. An adder." 

"An adder?"

"Another one?"

"Thank you Potter. From the pit of my stomach, thank you."

"It worked!"

"Ravenclaws are the only subspecies of wizard who could possibly see failure as success." Snape hissed derisively.

"Hermione?" Harry asked softly and she raised her head and cocked it at him.

"Who?" She asked, her voice strangely soft and sibilant. 

"Hermione? It's me Harry, remember?"

  
A pause and a snake yawn. "No, but it's nice to meet you. You have a very good accent for a human."

Harry's ears turned pink and he blushed. "Thanks."

"Potter!" Snape slid over the table and arched up a good four inches to look at Hermione who was still clasped in Pomfrey's hands. "Congratulations, she's amnesic."

Dumbledore stepped forward when he saw Snape's quick movement and asked. "What is it Harry?" 

"She doesn't remember who she is."

The Head Master frowned and glanced worriedly at Pomfrey.

"A fine kettle of fish Albus Dumbledore! How do we explain this to the Ministry?"

Harry ignored the Professors and continued to speak softly to his friend, "Your name is Hermione Granger."

"It is?"

"Yes and you used to be a human girl."

"I was human?"

"Head Girl at Hogwarts."

  
"That's nice. I have no idea what you that is, but it sounds nice." She wriggled in Pomfrey's hands and complained. "Could you tell the sharp smelling lady with the gloves to put me down please."

Harry asked Madam Pomfrey to put Hermione on the workbench. Once on the smooth surface she slid over the toward the potions textbooks only to come face to face with a black and angry Snape. 

"Miss Granger." He growled and reared up to sway over her. Old habits died hard and even as a snake Snape tried to be intimidating.

"Excuse me? Do I know you?" Hermione unperturbed fixed the other adder with a sharp green eye and pulled herself up to her smaller yet impressive height.

Snape sunk down to hiss in her face. "Yes!" His black jewel eyes glittering, "You are the reason I am like this!"

"oh," Hermione said in a small voice, "sorry." Bowing her head she peeked out to see the black adder skulk away to the radiator.

"Don't mind him, Mione." Harry said. "He was you teacher and-" He whispered, "He was always nasty to you."

"Oh?" Hermione perked up instantly, "Nasty?"

"Very." Harry added, thinking it odd how intense she suddenly seemed, her nostrils flaring and forked tongue tasting the air "Every time he saw you particularly."

"A word please, Harry." Dumbledore drew Harry away from the table and into a conversation about trying the counter spell the following day. 

They were too engrossed in their conversation to see the little green adder twist her head and consider the black male warming himself on the windowsill. Too busy sorting through times and classes to note the sly smile upon the snake's lips and the predatory in her eye - and even if they did notice what of it? 

No human, wizard or witch knew of the word that once uttered in snake triggered the twisting, dancing, lusting mating urge in whatever snake heard it, no one but a snake would have known the significance and no one would have ever guessed that word was 'nasty.'

  
@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

tbc 


	6. part 6

DISCLAIMER: 

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books,

Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

As Snape lay in the warmth on the windowsill quietly attaining a Zen state he had no idea of the danger he was in, danger from a very unusual source. A small green grass snake an adder much like himself was skittishly sneaking up on him. Her heart pounding, her forked tongue tasting his maleness in the air, eyes glowing like emeralds plucked from a dwarf's cave. Little did Snape know the female adder was intent on ravishing him! 

No, Snape was allowing himself to been dragged into slumber by the radiator's caressing warmth. Letting the heat infuse his scaly skin, pulling him inexorably down into the all-encompassing blackness of reptilian slumber. He was too drowsy to summon the energy to even open an eye, let alone higher thought processes. If he had deigned to do so he would have seen a green diamond shaped head experimentally nudge his black body, pause then almost grin through nerves and fear and he would have acted, but no...  No, Snape was half insensate in the promised land of dreams. He did not feel the feminine presence that softly slid over his tightly coiled black scaly body. Lost in the land of animal pleasures, hissing grass and small, furry, fast moving prey, he was for the time being blissfully happy.

"Right then!" Hagrid's voice boomed out from the doorway of the infirmary, splitting apart the cluster of teachers, mediwitch and student from their discussion. "It's time for Lavender to have her walk outside." He said as he lumbered in edging past them going to the pigpen, nodding at the Head Master. "Dumbledore."

"Hagrid."

"Come along Lavender. I know where there's some nice mushrooms?" 

Lavender dug her snout into the pile of hay in her pen and firmly closed her beady eyes. 

Hagrid tutted and extracted a lead from the depths of his greatcoat's pocket. He leant over the pen to hook up her collar. "No excuses mind." He said and tugged on the lead. Reluctantly Lavender got to her shaky legs and squealed in protest as she was moved toward the gate. "You need the exercise." Lavender was making a show of it, shaking her jowls angrily, snorting and grunting loudly. Hagrid ignored her protests and persisted in getting her out of the pen and past the small group of spectators.

"That's a good girl." He rumbled and looked up over the Head Master's head to the window. He frowned. "Here, is that Professor Snape? When did he get a little friend?"

Everyone turned and stared at the windowsill. There they saw two snakes, one black and one green entwined in one unruly slumbering pile. 

Perhaps it was the ability to speak snake that meant that Harry could read snake expressions too, but at that moment he did not care. _Hermione?_ He cringed, _what was she doing and why didn't she care?_

With a rising sense of nausea, Harry noticed that the small green adder (curled up very much like a cat on top of the larger black snake) had a one very smug expression on her face. 

"Oh dear."

"A veritable vipers nest I'd say, old chap."

  
"Hello Professor Snape!" Hagrid boomed over their heads, the vibration alone enough to rouse the reptiles. "Who's your little friend then?" He laughed.

Snape opened one glittering black eye and for a moment peace reigned. But then sensation returned and with it reason and one withering look later all hell broke loose.

"Oh no."

Harry clutched his head and tried to block out the steaming hissing and spitting from his ears.

"Hagrid, my dear old friend," Wheezed Dumbledore. "I believe it is time for you to leave."

"Right you are, Head Master." Hagrid sniffed, "If you say so. Come along Lavender." The little pig snuffled out beside Hagrid her pink snout in the air.

By now Snape was in the corner of the window flattened against the wood and glass, giving the green snake before him sarcastic jibes and taunts, while Hermione swayed before him, trying to tempt him out with coy hisses.

"No! Stop!" Harry his face pale and breathing harsh. "Hermione!" He pleaded in sibilant parsel tongue.

"I say?" Flitwick piped up. "What's she saying Harry?"  
  
The young man looked at the teachers with a mixture of supplication and horror. "Don't ask, please don't ask." He saw Dumbledore's mooed face and relented. "Something about mating and Snape being nasty to her." He whimpered. "And I don't think she means nasty as in unpleasant either."

"Nasty?" Dumbledore's eyebrows elevated up to the rim of his ornate wizard hat. "Good gracious!" He compulsively stroked his beard in frantic thought. "Nasty? Goodness gracious me!"

As suddenly as the clamour and hissing started it stopped. An eerie silence filled the infirmary's white walls. Snape had stopped spitting like a boiling kettle and he had peeled himself out of the corner to hover over Hermione his black head cocked to one side in question.

"Would you be so kind to tell me what's happening?" Flitwick twittered, straining his neck to see what was transpiring on the windowsill.

"Ewww." Harry grimaced, sinking to the floor, "Snape's asking Hermione how nasty he was and -" He gulped,  "She's telling him."

"Parents? Council?" Dumbledore muttered into his beard, "The Ministry? Who first…Oh dear…"

"Nasty? I don't understan-" Flitwick began, but sudden activity on the windowsill stopped him.

Snape had pulled himself up to his impressive full height, seeming to expand at the same time, his hard body glistening and throbbing larger in the sunlight as he hovered over the submissive female. He paused for a moment, luxuriating in the tension that sparked between his potential mate and he. Their taut bodies gleaming like wet metal, flicking tongues, tasting, smelling and hissing at each other softly, harshly with lust and need. He drew back; his black eyes slits opened his jaws to display a row of needle sharp fangs and then - pounced.

"Pomfrey get your gloves!"

Shocked realisation descended in equal measure upon the group. In a flustered rush the Mediwitch had the thick latex gloves on and made a grab at the first snapping tail she could find. She dangled Hermione in the air as she twisted and hissed. While beneath her, Snape skittered across the workbench lunging up at her, clearing very annoyed and frustrated in his ardour.

"Hermione?" Harry gaped. He never knew she knew such language.

"There!" Pomfrey dropped a still agitated Hermione into the Aquarium, moved the heavy lid securely into place and clapped her hands in completion. "Good." 

Snape sped toward the cage and reared up to skitter uselessly along the cool glass. He tested the lid with his head only to sink down after ten attempts in exhaustion. Wearily he lifted his head to look inside, his forked tongue flickering in desperation, longing etched in every twitch of his tail. Hermione was sullenly sliding around the tank also testing its limits - and failing. Finally she moved to the glass wall, lifted her head and tapped it drawing his attention. Silently they stared at each other in bittersweet resignation.

 Pomfrey snapped off the gloves and shook her head. "Albus-"

"I am aware Poppy." The old wizard sighed, "We can only try again tomorrow."

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

Later that evening…

"Come along Lavender." Hagrid's voice disturbed the twilight peace that had settled on the infirmary. 

Snape barely stirred from his posse by the aquarium as the door opened. He blearily watched as the giant; the little pig trotting beside made their way to the animal enclosure. He closed his eyes again and tried to fight down the overwhelming urge to sleep in the cooling sir, shed his skin or mate with the sex goddess in the glass tank beside him. 

_She's a child_, the man firmly told the reptilian part of himself. _A young woman, technically an adult - a student! Hermione Granger was an annoying presence in his classroom with whom he could not wait - to - get - nasty - with! Merlin and Circe combined! One word and he was overcome with animal lust! No wonder snake foreplay looked like death match wrestling._

"There you are Lavender." Hagrid closed the pigpen and Snape grimaced at the rush of warm pig stink. 

_If only they had changed Hermione into a horse! The teeth would be prefect. Perfect as she was now, long sinewy, scales in all the right places – Stop! Owww! If he had to bite his own tail every time he had indecent thoughts about her, he would be the shortest adder in Britain!_

"Is that you Professor Snape?" Hagrid's voice reached him before his bulky shadow. "What you doing outside?" He asked, clearly puzzled. "Madam Pomfrey forgot to put you back in the tank did she? It may be summer but the airs got a nip to it. I'll have to remind her that snakes don't like the cold; they hibernate given half a chance. Here." Before Snape could rouse himself enough to stiffen away, the kindly giant had lifted the edge of the aquarium lid with a finger and waited. Some part of Snape screamed in protest, but an overwhelming rush of lust, hot air from the tank and pheromones of female adder quelled it. Snape unwound, peered up at Hagrid for one incredulous minute before blindly sliding up and inside the tank his forked tongue leading the way. 

"There that's better," Hagrid replaced the lid and smiled. "All's right with the world." He moved away, not seeing the shadows shift and writhe in the aquarium. "Good night Lavender," He cried, not feeling the rising heat emanating from the glass tank as he trudged toward the door, "Good night Professor." He waved, not hearing the hiss of satisfaction.

"Good Night Hermi-!" He went over to the fishbowl and scratched his beard. "Odd." He commented, when he found the small fish bowl empty. "She must be out singing for her supper." And without another word, he left.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

tbc


	7. part 7

DISCLAIMER: 

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books,

Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

The next morning did not begin with songbirds and sunlight. It was grey and still… ominously still.  

The tranquillity was disturbed only by Madam Pomfrey, who primly entered the white hall and immediately went about her normal morning duties: patting down the last of her hospital corners on the infirmary beds, opening the curtains with a decisive swish of her wand - when she stopped mid-wave and frowned.

_Where was Professor Snape?_ She had left him curled up beside the fish tank last night. She had left him steadfastly refusing the tempting mice tidbits that Filch put in front of him and hissing anytime anyone human deigned to come near him. _It was such a pity being a snake had not improved his temper, _Poppy thought as she cast her gaze about the ward_. All that glowering and hissing could not be good for his cortisol levels. _

She moved to and strummed the workbench with thoughtful fingers.He was right here last night, night-induced torpor he could not have gotten far… _Some snit he's gotten himself into this time,_ she thought. _Quite rightly so, wanting to molest a student. Snake or man he should be shot!_

She picked at a bit of fluff on her apron and wandered over to the aquarium, glancing at all the windowsills and radiators looking for a small black snake. 

_No._

_Humph._

_Where was he? _

She put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot._ Well! He'll come out from wherever he's sulking eventually.  He always does._

_No need to let Hermione suffer for his incivility._

Pomfrey touched the lid of the fish tank, lifted it partway open and paused._ That's strange… _She frowned;_ what's that smell? It's similar to the odour in the disused storeroom near the Hufflepuff dorm… _She adjusted the weight of the lid in her hands._ Has this lid been moved? _She shoved heavy cover all the way off and–

Let it not be said that ladies - no matter how quiet and demure they appear, cannot swear like drunken sailors when the occasion calls for it. Madam Pomfrey respected Mediwitch and gentle healer of Quidditch injuries was no exception. She was sailing into the Indies, flying the Jolly Roger and turning the pale morning air a startling crackling electric blue. 

Enraged and spitting out curses, the Mediwitch barely had time to fumble on a glove before she extracted the very floppy length of black adder out of the tank and flung it onto the workbench. It was doubly infuriating the way Snape bounced like a rubber hose when he hit the tabletop and the way he lazily flopped over to show her his underbelly with a barely audible sigh. Pomfrey did not need to speak parsel tongue to read Severus Snape's expression. It was fairly glowing with smugly satisfied maleness.

"Severus!" She roared. The adder struggled to open an eye. He sleepily gazed at her, totally nonplussed. "WHAT did you think you were doing?!"

  
Before she could get an answer, (not that she expected one, as it was obvious he knew what he had been doing - but a contrite look would be nice), Snape was joined by the smaller green snake that was Hermione Granger who slithered out of the tank and crawled up next to him. Appalled Poppy watched as the pair of adders touched noses, flicked tongues and curled up together in one contented heap.

"Well, if that's the way you want to play it?" She seethed and without further ado, picked up an exhausted Hermione and deposited her back into the aquarium before firmly securing the lid and putting a stack of medical journals on top for good measure. "Right! Wait till the Head Master hears about this!"

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

It was a short half an hour later that the Head Master, Flitwick, Harry and Ron had assembled in the infirmary. 

While Dumbledore and Flitwick looked over the counter curse again and tested the potency of the potion of the magical equivalent of litmus paper Ron was trying to talk to Hermione. At least he was trying and failing to converse with the green snake, Hermione was far more intent on the black adder who was beside him on the workbench.

"What's Snape doing?" Ron stage whispered to Harry, eyeing the black adder as it swayed and bobbed. "Doing a snake dance?"

Harry had told Ron about the botched counter spell and how Hermione was now a snake, however, he had not explained about the perplexing content of Snape and Hermione's discussion from the day before and did not really want to. _How could he explain that?_ _How could he tell your best friend that your other best friend wanted to have sex with Snape?_ He shuddered; it did not bear thinking about. Thank goodness Dumbledore had intervened before things had gone too far.

"He's still at it?" Pomfrey told Ron, when she approached the boys, putting down the heavy spell book. "Disgusting." 

 "He's not a very good dancer is he?" Ron said totally oblivious to the tension in the air. He tapped the glass to get Hermione's attention. "What's he saying to her anyway, Harry? Something about the spell?"

"Ah- no Ron." Harry paled, his gaze darting about for a moment as he thought. He did not want to translate Snape's words. Harry was only grateful that the tank muffled Hermione's replies because he was sure they would be as equally - adult. Giving up he blushed to the tips of his ears. "He's just – you know – displaying."

"He's making a spectacle of himself that's for sure." Ron frowned.  

"Humph!" Pomfrey snorted. Ron looked up at the agitated Mediwitch and then swivelled on his stool to look back at the Head Master, Flitwick and Harry. _Why was Pomfrey behaving so strangely? _He pouted_. And why was everyone but him ignoring the snakes? Weren't they the reason they were here?_

"You want some music?" Ron asked, shoving his wand out toward Snape, but the snake reared up and hissed at him. Ron pocketed his wand and murmured, "Alright. It was just a suggestion."

"Ron…" Harry warned, his voice thinning making Ron look at him. "He's dis-play-ing."

"I can see that Harry." Ron said getting peeved, but not _getting_ it at all.

Harry looked to Madam Pomfrey for assistance and with an air of irritation the woman stepped into the fray with prim disapproval. "Mr Weasley, with the size of your family I would assume you have heard about the birds and the bees?"

  
"Birds? Bees?" Ron's face went from mild puzzlement to pallid outright horror. "You mean s-e-x?" His eyes bugged. "He's- Snape's-" He squeaked, "what?"

"Professor Snape is enticing Hermione to mate with him."

  
Before Madam Pomfrey could stop him Ron had plastered his hands and face against the glass and shrieked. "Don't do it Hermione!"

"Too late I fear." Dumbledore patted his shoulder and drew him back. "Boys, I'm afraid something untoward occurred last night…"

There was a moment of heart stopping realisation where everyone was frozen in place, everyone that is but Snape, who still caught up in mating dance swaying and swirling before the tank that held his mate.

"What? You don't mean?" Harry stood up and forgot not to listen to the snakes. He overheard Snape promising to do the lewdest thing with Hermione imaginable. Felt promptly ill, put his hands over his ears and sat down looking pale and wan. 

Pomfrey was shocked at the Head Masters audacity. Her hand covered her mouth hoping the admission would fade away. _That was it! The Ministry would be here by lunchtime. _

While Ron, his mouth quivering closed his eyes tightly and put his hands over them, pleading. "Not with Snape! Not that! Hermione, how could you? No no no no!"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. It only makes our need to counter the transformation rather more imperative."

"Yes!" Ron dropped his hands to reveal a face contorted in revulsion. "Yes yes yes! Please yes!" He was almost sobbing.

Harry meanwhile, his head down, face grim, hands clenched against his ears was heard only to mutter. "I'm going to kill Draco Malfoy if it's the last thing I do!"

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

tbc


	8. part 8

DISCLAIMER: 

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books,

Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

Harry was not involved in the next attempt at the counter curse, which was a good thing, as it failed. Not spectacularly, but with a small fizzle and half-hearted pop.

Dumbledore and Flitwick exchanged knowing glances and shook their heads.

"Perhaps there is a time delay?" Flitwick offered hopefully, nervously fidgeting his wand in his small hands.

  
"Perhaps." Dumbledore agreed, patting the Charms Master's shoulder, "Perhaps old friend."

Flitwick shoulder's sagged in defeat as he watched Hermione snake back into her corner of the glass tank. The little trollop was suggestively sashaying her body for Snape as she slid away.

_This was bad,_ Harry thought… 

Five seconds later Ron asked. "Umm Harry? Is this bad?"

"We need to talk to Draco." Harry told him, pulling on his sleeve until they were both near the infirmary's door.

"We tried that," Ron pouted. "Do you reckon Hermione knows what Snape's doing?" He asked screwing up his face as he watched the pining black adder fling himself bodily against the glass attempting to attract Hermione's attention. "I mean she's doesn't right?"

"Yes. Ron. Hermione knows. She started it."  

_And Snape wants to finish it._

"But she thinks she's a snake?"

"Yes. Ron. She thinks she's a snake." They paused as Madam Pomfrey extracted Hermione from the tank and put her a workbench on the other side of the room. Snape stopped his frantic efforts long enough to flatten himself to the tabletop and stare intently at the women. Harry gritted his teeth for emphasis. "Come on, we need to TALK to Malfoy."

"We tried talking remember? So if she thinks she's a snake, she must know what Snape is doing… _ipso facto_."

"What?"

"You know, she's a snake, therefore she thinks snake stuff."

Harry shook his head trying to clear the cloud of confusion Ron had conjured up. Harry decided to give up trying to wade through Ron's logic, instead continuing with _his_ train of thought. 

Checking over his shoulder that they were out of earshot, he said. "Do you know sign language Ron?"

"Harry?" Ron paused and scowled at him. "Why do we need to know sign language? Is this because snakes are deaf?"

"No, Ron." Harry sighed wondering (not for the first time) if that bludger to his head in sixth year had caused Ron permanent injury. "For Draco. We tried talking with our mouths, now we try the _magical_ form of sign language…" Harry put a lot of emphasis on 'magical', carefully guiding Ron out the infirmary door and showing him how his fingers curled into a fist. "See how they sign?" Harry did a karate chop and then a left jab, "Fingers, hands, fists and wands?"

Ron's mouth 'o'ed, then quipped, "Tell you what. After lunch we could hang Draco from the Astronomy tower by his shoelaces?"

"Ron, I'm serious!"

  
"So was I!"

"At this point Ron, I'm willing to join Voldemort to get the little creep to reverse the spell."

"Whoa Harry, don't go off the deep -" Ron's warning was interrupted by a flash and gurgle as something dark and body shaped formed in the air above them and tumbled to the floor. "What the-!"

"Ohhhh." The bundle moaned.

"Owww."

"Hey watch it!" Ron yelled. "Who do you think you are falling out of the ceiling like that?"

  
"Are you alright?" Harry asked.

The bundle breathed and coughed and asked, "What time is it?"

"What are you thick? It's lunchtime." Ron supplied, "We're off to grab some grub."

  
The bundle rolled over and pulled Hogwart's robe from its face to reveal a dark head, strained pale expression and Ravenclaw tie. "Year?"

  
Ron looked at Harry who looked at Ron, then down to the dark haired boy at their feet and came up with the only logical conclusion. "You must have banged your head."

Adding as they stepped over the prostate youth. "I would go see Madam Pomfrey if I were you."

~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~

Pomfrey was not known for her psychic abilities but on this occasion her predictions proved to be startling accurate. At two o'clock exactly Cornelius Fudge face appeared in Dumbledore's fireplace and huffily told him that there would an urgent School Council meeting, shortly after the Minister 'just happened to drop by' for an impromptu meeting with four other identically dressed Ministry officials. 

After the Ministry ascertained the seriousness of the situation Dumbledore, Pomfrey and Flitwick were ordered to explain themselves not only to them, but to Miss Granger and Miss Brown's parents as well. It became a long drawn out afternoon. Both sets of parents understandably shocked and angered, first by being dragged out of their Muggle world and second, into the events that they could barely understand… but that was not the worst of it. 

The Grangers had to be told of their daughter's indiscretion with a certain black adder. As Head Master Dumbledore knew the task was his and his alone to tell Hermione's parents. They were calm pleasant people who smelt strongly of peppermint and cloves. Quietly he drew aside the couple with the intention of telling them, nodding to Pomfrey indicating he would appreciate her support. The Mediwitch quietly left the Brown's to Flitwick's charms and took a chair beside the aged wizard. 

Dumbledore emptied out the last of the Earl Grey in the Wedgwood cups he nodded to himself. There was no polite of explaining it, he would have to tell them straight. He peered at the expectant faces of the Grangers and guilty sipped some of his hot sweet tea before putting it aside and saying, "Professor Snape and your daughter have mated."

A silence followed, then a clutter of cups on saucers. "The other snake?"

  
"Yes."

"What? Pardon me?" Mr Granger shot to his feet, dropping his cup, spilling its contents all over the expensive carpet at his feet. "He did what to my daughter? What sort of people do you employ here Dumbledore? I'll kill him! I'll castrate the bastard!"

"He's a snake dear?" Mrs Granger's voice was distant, but calm. "How do you castrate a snake?"

  
"I don't know, but I'll find a way! A quick turn through the slice and dice setting on the food processor should sort it!"

"Please Mr Granger, shouting and threats of violence are not helping. Professor Snape is a fine upstanding member of Hogwart's faculty." To one side of him he heard Pomfrey's barely discernible snort. "Of course it is terrible news, but it was also unintentional. The longer Hermione and Sev- Professor Snape stay the creatures they have transformed into the more they become like them. It could not be helped. Of course, we at Hogwarts do not condone this sort of behaviour  - ever, but the fact is this is not the usual ill-fated adolescent tryst nor for that matter the rather more disturbing teacher-student affair. It's something else entirely. It's nature; it's the time of the year for adders to breed and instinct won out. Neither Professor Snape nor Hermione are to blame in this matter. Please understand we regret this as much as you and so would Professor Snape, if he ever gets back to normal." 

"Mores the pity." Dumbledore almost turned his head to glare at Pomfrey, but instead he calmly looked at a red-faced, clearing angry Mr Granger, then to his wife. 

Mrs Granger sat next to her husband with a stunned expression on her face. Mr Granger had just inhaled a great lungful of air, but before he could release it in a tirade of Muggle curses Mrs Granger intervened. She spoke quietly and quickly, putting down her cup of tea with a shaking hand before placing it on her husband's forearm.

"I would like to see my daughter please."

~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~

Madam Pomfrey discretely put Snape in the back office when the Grangers, trailed by the Browns came to visit their radically different daughters.

"Is that her?" Margery Granger asked as she stared into the fish tank at the small wound up bundle of green. 

"Yes." Poppy answered kindly. "Would you like to hold her?"

Behind them the Brown's were staring in disbelief at the rotund pink pig in the pen. Mr Brown was the first to lean over to coax Lavender to him for a pet. His daughter tentatively trotted up and sniffed his hand.

"There." Mr Brown said with a smile. "It's Dad, that's right." He scratched Lavender behind the ear, while Mrs Brown broke into loud sobs and cried. "A pig? My baby's a pig!"

"There, there Dora. It's all right, look? She eats whatever you put in front of her." He said as he fed his daughter a piece of stale bread.

Mrs Brown clutched a perfumed handkerchief to her nose and wailed, before running out of the infirmary.

"Poppy?" Dumbledore waved at the departing woman, "Please."

  
Madam Pomfrey smiled at the Grangers, gave Mrs Granger the gloves and went out after Mrs Brown.

"She seems alright?"  Mrs Granger commented as Hermione wound herself around her forearm and gazed intently into her face.

"She's fit and healthy." Dumbledore said. 

Mr Granger grumbled beside him. "She better be."

"Does she know who I am?"

  
Dumbledore's eyes sadden. "She may."

"When she changes back will she remember?"

"He said he couldn't change her back!" Mr Granger's anger smelt of iron and smoke. "Bloody wizards and witches… It's all an occult cult!"

  
"Enough Mr Granger!" Dumbledore's face fell further as did his voice; the very floor seemed to vibrate with it. He paused, and said in a normal tone. "Please… Hope is what we cling to, Mr Granger. Hope is as fundamental to life as it is to magic."

~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~

Sometime later when the girls parents had been fed, halfway mollified and despatched back to their lives with promises of urgent calls if there were any new developments Fudge visited the infirmary. The politician shook his head as he peered into the glass tank and then over to the windowsill where Snape was now dozing. "Messy business Dumbledore."

"Yes, transformations are always difficult."

  
"Hmmm." Cornelius Fudge pretended to consider these words, then bluntly said. "I was talking about the sex old man. Her parents are furious."

"As to be expected. Although…" Albus tilted his head in contemplation, ":I wonder why they aren't more concerned about her being a snake."

"Because as Muggles they assume we can fix anything!" Pomfrey stated testily as she came into the ward. "But no one can repair her virtue."

Dumbledore's expression grew sombre and his voice placating. "An unforeseen event. It could not be helped Poppy."

  
"Yes, well." Fudge glanced at the Head Master. "Try telling her parents that! They're threatening to go to the Muggle press."

"Albus, you see! I knew this would happen." Pomfrey seethed, flapped her apron and spun on her heel. 

"It's a very frustrating situation, but not one of our - or their - choosing." He added as Pomfrey wiped a stray tear from her cheek. "Please Poppy, try to understand."

"It was terrible for them Albus." She sniffed. "Can you imagine finding out your child could be lost to you forever?"

"The School Council is not at all impressed." Fudge stated sternly. "Malfoy is seething. He wants your head for this."

  
"Considering it was his son who performed the curse Minister, Mr Lucius Malfoy would do better directing his anger at his own house."

Fudge paled. "Lucuis's son did this?" He gripped Dumbledore's arm, "Why didn't you say?"

  
"He has not admitted it, but the evidence strongly suggests Draco Malfoy performed the curse."

  
"Make him reverse it!"

  
"Minister, as you are well aware magic performed under force falls into the realm of the Dark Arts. One would hope the Ministry does not support such acts?"

"No." Fudge had the good grace to blush and look flustered. "Of course we don't. Very good Dumbledore, but you should have informed me earlier."

"It was an in-house matter, Minister. Only when the counter spells failed…" Albus schooled his expression into one of conspiratorial mean. "Perhaps a word to Mr Malfoy about his son and how this could impact on the wizarding world?"

Whether it was the threat of the Muggle press getting hold of this story and heaven forbid, finding some basis for it or Lucius Malfoy's influential rage, Cornelius Fudge, consummate government man, (down to his bowler hat and pin-striped suit) could on occasion think and act incredibly quickly. "We could authorise obliviates on the parents?"

"You could." Dumbledore agreed, "Although the ethics of such a choice are grey. Cornelius, your visit to our humble school was not discrete. Perhaps we here at Hogwarts are to blame for this, we are but simple teachers. Yet let there be no doubt that by the time you leave Hogwarts, Hogsmeade and large portions of Diagon alley and environs know of what has occurred. It is not easy to obliviate an entire school, village and parts of greater London."

"Is that a threat Dumbledore?" Fudge straightened to his full portly height.

  
"No." Albus raised his hands in a sign of surrender. "A simple fact."

"I'll talk to Lucius." 

~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~

Meanwhile Harry and Ron had their own 'problem', namely, the tall, thin dark haired teenager who had nearly flattened them earlier. He was trailing about after them like a stray dog.

"He's still following us." Ron stage whispered to Harry as they strolled down the corridor from the Great Hall, pretending not to be stalking Draco Malfoy, when clearly they were.

"I know." Harry replied. "Ignore him."

  
"We can't ignore him." Ron paused and their shadow came to a halt behind them. "He must be new, all the Ravenclaws were staring and pointing at him during lunch."

Harry wasn't interested or listening. He had violent revenge on his mind. "Where's Draco gone now? He's gone up the staircases. Come on, Ron!" The boys set off after the nasty Slytherin, taking the steps two at a time.

"He won't reverse the spell for you!" The dark haired boy shouted before they reached the next level.

Harry stoped mid-stride, clenched his fists and glared down at the newcomer. "Would you mind keeping your voice down?"

"And watch you get suspended…" The boy called up to them. "Harry Potter isn't it? I don't think so."

"Look, whoever you are-"

"Sam."

  
"Excuse me?" 

"My name is Sam." 

"Sam?" Ron was lost, he had his wand drawn and had been riding high on the crest of a wave of self-righteous adrenalin, but the endogenous stimulant was now leeching out his system, leaving him cold and shivery. He looked at Harry, who was still fuming. His friend's cheeks had two small red spots in the pale expanse of rage. Ron put on his most determined angry face, leant over the staircase and said in his best soft and menacing voice. "Well Sam. As you can see Harry and I are busy and we would appreciate it if you-"

  
"Buggered off." Harry supplied.

"Yeah," Ron nodded. _So that's how Harry wanted to play it. _He straightened up and puffed out his chest. "Bugger off!"

"And leave the entertainment? I think not!" Sam folded his arms and casually leant on a banister, smirking. "I know how the spell was reversed. You're wasting your time with Malfoy. He'd rather sleep on a bed of nails than do what you want him to."

"You seem awfully sure of yourself." Harry said.

"Yeah." Ron agreed, "And-" His gaze darted about in thought, his mouth open. "How come you're so smart? 

  
"I'm a Ravenclaw." Sam dryly observed. "My genetic loading played a significant part and … " Sam tilted his head in a very disconcertingly familiar fashion and growled, "I'm from the future you dunderhead!"

~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~

tbc


	9. part 9

DISCLAIMER: 

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books,

Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

"Blimey." Ron breathed. "From the future?" His mind was racing with a thousand questions, but the most prominent one popped out of his mouth. "Who wins the Quidditch final next year? NO! No, don't tell me! How about… Could you help me with my Divination final tomorrow?"

Sam looked at Ron and schooled his expression into one of blankness. "I am from the future. I am not a miracle worker."

"Why should we believe you?" Harry asked, his neck prickling with paranoia. "You could be some Slytherin stoolie?"

  
"I could be?" Sam agreed and one corner of his thin top lip curled upward and his brown eyes grew black. "I suppose you will have to trust me?"

"How far ahead in the future?" Ron asked.

"Perhaps we should find Dumbledore?" Sam asked, looking down the corridor toward the direction of the Head Master's office.

"How'd you get here?" Ron persisted.

  
Again Sam ignored Ron's question, turned away and began toward the administration wing. When Harry and Ron stormed after him, he paused, withdrew a small silver and gold device from his uniform's pocket and showed them, "Time turner."

  
"Oh."

  
A silence fell as the boys considered each other. Harry was not convinced by Sam's story; he openly glared at the taller boy and at the device he dangled from his long elegant fingers. Ron could feel Harry's loathing. It was clear that Harry did not want to believe Sam was from the future – to do so made Sam powerful and to Potter's brain any power equalled danger…  

_It was a good point_, Sam conceded, as he wrapped its chain about his fingers and shoved it away into the depths of his pocket. _A very good point_. Yet his stay here would be more amenable if 'the boy who would kill Voldemort' chose to be on his side. Ron on the hand was a simple matter: he saw the device, he believed. No other thoughts would cross that trusting Weasley mind.

"Oh-kay…" Ron puffed out a sigh. "What did you say your name was again?" Ron asked, trying to break the tension.

"Sam."

"Sam…?" Harry asked drawing out the question waiting for the surname.

"Samson." The teenager shrugged and began to walk away.

Ron gave Harry a humorous look and mouthed 'Samson' behind the young man's back.

  
Harry ignored Ron and persisted, "Samson…? What?"

"Filch."

Ron's eyes bugged and Harry gave out a short sharp laugh, stopping in his tracks. "You're joking. As in Argus Filch, the caretaker?"

"The Squib?" Ron looked Sam up and down, "Phew!"

  
Sam swirled about and faced them a dark angry look in his eyes. "Yes, Argus Filch is my father. Perhaps you would like me to make derisive comments about your background Weasley? Or lack thereof?"

Ron felt a spark of ire rise within him, but Harry pushed him aside and said, "Come on! Get real, you don't look anything like Filch!"

"Of course not!" Sam stuck out his chin defensively and straightened his tie in a manner very reminiscent of Percy. "Why should I?" And without saying another word he stalked off.

Harry and Ron paused only a momentarily to give each other mute hand gestures before chasing after him.

"Why isn't Filch your father when you said he's your father?" Ron asked confusingly when he caught up to the young man.

"Isn't it obvious?" Sam said, shaking his head at the Gryffindor's lack of tact. "He's not my biological father. My mother married him three years after we- I was born." He muttered under his breath, "They had a lot in common, both liked cats… other reptiles…"

"I bet." Harry agreed. 

"Bloody hell." Ron shook his head in disbelief. "Someone married Filch?"

Sam continued on and entered the atrium that led to Dumbledore's chambers. Harry and Ron behind him, following in stunned silence.

"You know Sam, I think know who your real father is?" Potter said smugly as Sam examined the gargoyle that stood guard at Dumbledore's office's entranceway.

"So do I!" Ron protested. 

There was only one man in the world whom Filch would be happy to take the leavings of and only one man who could generate this amount of animosity in Harry Potter. 

_Obvious really_, Ron mused in a mixture of superiority and disgust. _Tall, thin, dark hair, pale, and exuding that certain vinegary flavour that soured everything._

_Severus Snape was Sam's father._

As distasteful as the thought of Snape reproducing could be, Ron shuddered… _Who else could it be? It had to be Snape, no question. He would lay his wand on it!_

"Yes, you probably could guess." Sam sighed in defeat and looked about. "Where has the old man moved the bell?" He asked, searching the area for the drawstring.

"Go on Harry." Ron nudged his friend in the ribs. "Tell him."

"Yes Harry." Sam repeated tiredly as he looked behind a drape and found a long yellow velvet rope. "I don't have much time. Tell me."

 "Snape." Harry said the name softly, but empathetically and both he and Ron watched keenly for any sign of reaction.

  
"Ah," Sam pulled the cord, frowned and shook his head. "No…" He turned and faced the boys and looked sympathetically at them. "Actually Sirius Black is my biological father. Sorry…" The gargoyle parted and the staircase revolved and Sam stepped onto the first step. "Never met Snape, but I heard he was quite the bastard." He began to ascend upward, his voice drifting down. "Which is fortunate as my potions mark is only adequate." And he vanished out of sight.

"Wow, didn't see that one coming." Ron said.

Harry blinked and finally spoke. "Sirius?"

"Yeah," Ron breathed out slowly. "I'm serious Harry. Not a clue."

 Harry frowned at his friend for a full minute, before mumbling under his breath and walking away.

"Harry?" Ron cried out after him. "If Sirius Black is Sam's Dad, does this mean you two are related?"

"Shut up, Ron." 

"It does, doesn't it?" Ron grinned and slapped Harry on the shoulder. "This is brilliant! You've got a family Harry!"

Harry stopped and considered Ron. "I've already got a family, Ron. A Muggle family. He's…" He trailed off and cast a glare back toward Dumbledore's office. "There's something not right here Ron. Something about Sam that's all wrong. I can feel it."

"He's from the future that's why." Ron said, his logic impeccable. "He won't fit in here. It's not his time."

Harry stared at Ron and shook his head. Sometimes his best friend could come up with the most startling statements. "You're probably right." He conceded with a small smile. "It's the time shift. It must be." 

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

tbc


	10. part 10

DISCLAIMER: 

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books,

Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

It was a mark of the status the House of Malfoy that when a Malfoy was displeased and wished to express it publicly he did not send something as trite or common as a howler; he sent a house elf with a bottled spell.

Draco was lounging in the Slytherin common room arrogantly pretending he had not heard that the Ministry had arrived at Hogwarts, still denying any involvement in the unfortunate transformations and hoping like mad his father would not get wind of it – any of it, for his father's temper was as terrifying as it was lethal.

_Little hope of that_, he realised when he heard the shuffle of feet and the sudden emptying of the room about him. He waited for four long breaths before he suppressed the tremble in his limbs, swallowed hard and checked over his shoulder. 

_Always sit to a corner_, his father had told him… _No one can creep up on you from behind if you have your back to the corner._ _Why was it now he remembered that?_

"Nudge is sorry Master Draco." He did not recognise the House elf, but it wore one of the Malfoy household's towels as a loincloth. Draco felt his fingers claw in the fabric of the chair as his gaze drifted to what the creature held in its hand.

The House elf hid its face behind a hand, holding out the small black bottle with the other. "It's from the Master." Nudge explained as he quickly uncorked the bottle, dropped it and scurried back into the shadows. "I's is sorry."

The bottle rolled on the floor. Once, twice, it rocked back and forth before stilled with a chilling snap! 

Nothing happened. Draco blinked. _His father had sent him a dud?  The spell was bad?_ He almost laughed hysterically, but years of being a Malfoy and Slytherin stopped that impulse. Instead a sly grin spread across his face and froze just as suddenly as it began. 

The bottle jumped, clattered and with a burp and gulch large drifts of blue-black smoke issued from the unstoppered mouth. They floated into the air and with it the sound of a voice…. A deadly quiet and angry voice, "Draco…" Lucius Malfoy's voice filled the room. 

The tone of his father's voice was enough to make Draco sink into the seat and childishly hope it swallowed him up. The air was filled with a humming sound that grew into an irksome buzz as the smoke swirled and coalesced. "I thought I always told you…" His father's casual note made him cringe. "'Clumsy curses inflict visits with nurses'? We will discuss this later Draco. You know what you must do. But if you don't my little winged _assistants_ are here to guide you." 

The smoke had cleared to form into two oversized green hornets that hovered in the air. Draco could see their mandibles snapping and eyes glowing with malice as they glared down at him. For one benign moment they hung in the air, before they looked at each other, nodded and without any other signal dive-bombed down straight at him.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

Severus Snape lay in the summer sun thinking of nothing particular. Thoughts of food sleep and sex with that tantalising female danced before his primitive forebrain. The end of his tail twitched as he considered his frustration. He needed to mate; but the female was trapped within that square of solid air that thwarted his every effort!  

It was that human who stopped him. He glared at the sea of white whose sharp astringent smell tickled his fork tongue. She was to blame. 

He watched the woman put the female adder on a workbench on the other side of the room as she tried to tempt her with bits of dead mice. 

Snape hissed quietly to himself. He tempted the female. He and he alone, he could smell her and knew he was oozing the same pheromones in response. Swirling his tail angrily on the windowsill he flicked his tongue. _These humans were strange creatures. Did they not feel? No, they must not._ He decided. They stood about, smelling of peculiar and making noises that made cows sound melodious. _How could they not know the urge to join was essential? Didn't they feel it too, the drag of the seasons the pull of the lust and the satisfaction of mating? _This was no game your life was forfeit if you did not succeed, a natural dictate that he obeyed without question. _Do you breath? Do you eat? Do you mate?_ It was normal and expected. To do anything else was wrong or worse - fatal.

Yet some part of him resisted, a man's voice whispered cold words of self-loathing that he did not understand. He ignored the voice; the words were no longer making sense, as they were hollow sounds with no scent. Soon he hoped the voice's echo would fade completely and never nibble at his consciousness again.

The sunlight felt good on his skin and he shifted, closing his eyes. Severus Snape was a snake, the man within him bleeding away into dreams of mice, green scales and warm hissing grass.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

Sam sat in Dumbledore's office quietly relating the exact same story he had told Harry and Ron to the Head Master. To his absolute amazement (given the media hype Dumbledore received post Voldemort,) the old fool was falling for it hook, line and sinker. 

_Dumbledore was meant to be brighter than this? _He puzzled._  He was almost a God! _The black haired boy watched the old wizard fumble in his pocket for a sweetie. He almost shook his head in disgust as the old man extracted one, opened the wrapper and popped it into his mouth. 

_Good grief! No one could have gotten it this wrong? This Grandad looks as if he's about to fall asleep in his soup! Yet… _He conceded._ Gryffindors can be thick sometimes_, and he allowed himself a wry inner smile before silently congratulating himself. _Excellent!_ _My scheme's working._

"I see, Mr Filch." Albus sucked on the sweet, his rheumy eyes looking over the rim of his glasses at the young man. "If I am to understand this correctly you are from the future, you used your mother's old time turner to get here and you are a student of Hogwarts." He waved a liver spotted hand. "A Ravenclaw by your colours?"

  
"Yes." Sam nodded and for the first time felt slightly unnerved. There was something in the way Dumbledore said 'Ravenclaw'. "Yes, Ravenclaw through and through. I asked to be placed there and the Sorting hat was happy to oblige." He fought down the urge to touch his face.

"Yes, of course." Dumbledore wheezed, sat down behind his desk where he steepled his hands before him and continued to suck his lolly. 

For a protracted period the pair sat in silence. Dumbledore gazed over Sam's head deep in contemplation, his tired gaze travelling over the portraits of the past Head Masters of Hogwarts who gazed back at him in deep consideration. Finally when Sam thought the old man had lost his train of thought, Dumbledore spoke. 

"Ah yes. Tell me young man, I'm an old, I'm not as quick on my feet as I used to be and today has been a long unpleasant day. But something troubles me…" He smiled. Sam felt the unease return and with it the floor vibrating under the soles of his feet. "What part of your flimsy tissue of lies should I believe –" With the next wheezed breath Dumbledore's voice grew large and electric, his hands and face and eyes glowing with power. His voice returned full force, strong and great. The boy felt the pressure of it pushing him down and into the cushions of his seat.  "Or - simply sneeze at?

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

tbc


	11. part 11

DISCLAIMER: 

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books,

Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

Sam eyed Dumbledore while the old wizard benignly gazed back. The young man had to make a decision to tell the Head Master the truth, or pretend he was an imbecile from Hogsmeade who happened upon an old Hogwarts uniform.

"What do you want me to tell you old man?" Sam was never very good at playing the fool; but at making others play that role he was expert. "Do you want to know who wins the Quidditch Cup too, or something more earth shattering? Voldemort's death perhaps?" He paused, got out of his chair and wiped a hand over his face and began to pace the floor thinking. "No, Dumbledore, I underestimated you. I must admit it's a clever guise you use... But I know you; you're selfish and I lived with the consequences of your actions."  
  
"Sam, you have me at a disadvantage. I do not know you. Please sit down and –"  
  
"Don't try to mollify me!" The young man whirled on him, his hands hard fists at his side. "Argus Filch is my father! Don't try to worm yourself into my good books. I am not Snape, I will not be your whipping boy." Sam unfurled his fists, rubbed his hands together and muttered. "You would want to learn about your own end, don't you?" His lip curled.  "Yes… How one day you woke up to find Ronald Weasley about to slash your throat?"  
  
"I can't imagine-"  
  
"Of course you can't." Sam's voice dropped to a whisper. "You only have limited sight. If you knew what happened to your precious Harry Potter… " He smiled, but the expression fell from his face as a painful memory replaced it. "But can you imagine this, four children born as snakes. No, you can't, can you? Adders are viviparous. Really Dumbledore what do they teach here? Adders give birth to live young. My mother gave birth to four and I am one of them."  
  
"Slow down Mr Filch, you're losing me. You are going too fast."  
  


"Too fast? You can talk! The speed with which you threw my mother to the wolves was indecent! How could you let Fudge go to the press to deflect attention away from your precious school? What sort of decision was that? How dare you!" The young man was livid. 

"All I know … and please correct me if I am wrong. Is that your mother was a snake and I was somehow to blame for information about your birth getting to the media?"

"We can be quick on the uptake at times, can't we?" Sam scoffed. "Yes, my mother was a snake. Once she was a frog then by Potter's ineptitude a snake. Don't play dumb with me Dumbledore you can guess the rest. My father and she mated Draco Malfoy transformed her back. I and my siblings are the result."

"Hermione Granger is your mother?" As if Sam's appearance was not enough of a clue, he exuded the calculating intensity of Severus, the emotional heat of Hermione Granger and the unfortunate burden of the intelligence from both of them, Ravenclaw indeed…

"Yes." Sam confirmed Dumbledore's suspicions with a curt nod. "You'd be glad to know that her story was front page news for weeks. The _other_ stories I've heard about my mother's 'bestial perversity' would make you sick! How could you give that scum free reign to destroy her life?"

  
The Head Master was at a loss for words, there was raw emotion radiating off the young man. The hurt was as tangible as magic and by Sam's story justifiably so. The unpleasant nature of his birth would indeed be enough to make a grown man cringe. Undeniably the gutter press would lap it up – 'girl gives birth to snakes'. He shuddered at the thought and felt suddenly nauseous at the image of the photos. He felt a surge of pity for the boy, but this was followed by quick indignation. He did not know if he should comfort Sam or scold him for his inappropriate behaviour. But what words do you say? What comfort do you provide? How could he defend actions that you have not performed yet?

"But what about your father? Surely he would have intervened?"

"My fath- my father, my _real_ father?" Sam sputtered. "What a joke! Severus Snape lived and died a snake. His last days spent curled up in an aquarium in Hagrid's hut."

"You mean Severus never transforms back?

"No, your precious Potions Master did not want to." Sam whined. "Obviously he had so much invested in being your lackey it wasn't a hard decision for him."

The Head Master ignored the insult. "Excuse me, you said he did not want to?"  
  
"Oh brilliant!" Sam shook his dark head in disbelief. "Maybe it's not much of disguise this fumbling old man routine of yours? Here am I educating a Grand Wizard and the Head Master of one of the leading private wizarding schools? If only I had the parents to witness this? They would be proud." The sarcasm dripped like blood from a knife. He lowered his voice and gave Albus a pointed look. "Curses aren't all one sided Dumbledore."  
  
"Is that why you came here to convince him to return to his human form?"  
  
"Him? He can rot in hell for all I care!" Sam flicked his chin away and chewed his bottom lip. Dumbledore could see that the boy did not mean his words, but was trying to convince himself they were true. "Isn't it obvious why I came back?" Sam fought back a wave of emotion. "I wanted to see her before-"

Dumbledore looked sharply at him. "Before?"

"Before she died."

"Your mother- Hermione Granger?" Sam nodded his bowed dark head. "She dies?"  
  
  


"You didn't leave her much choice, did you?" Sam's voice cracked and wavered. "Oh yes, she once had so much potential didn't she?" He gave a bitter snort, his eyes filled with tears and he looked away. "You told us not to dwell on the past, but she was our mother. Try telling a five year old he wasn't allowed to see his mother? I used to sneak into the library to look at her pictures in the school albums. Why looked so surprised? We live at Hogwarts, Filch insisted on it. Her parents disowned her, immigrated or some such rot. They couldn't get away fast enough, our existence disgusted them, disgusted everyone." 

Sam looked askance and his voice became wistful as it fell on the bookshelves. "In every one of the photos she looked so happy. Like she had a bright future and knew it. She had such a real fire burning inside her." He looked back at Dumbledore as if challenging him to deny it. "I heard she was very loyal too? What good it did her. She ended up in St Mungos with pneumonia and self-neglect, you know? Fell into drink, dangerous drugs and died and we didn't even know her."

The weight of Sam's words hung over Dumbledore's head like the sword of Damocles. There was a lot of information to process, he would do that later he needed to deal with young Mr Filch now. 

"So you took her old time turner and came back here?"

"Filch gave it to me." Sam fixed him with a hateful look. "He made you do the right thing Dumbledore and I will never forget it."

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

tbc


	12. part 12

DISCLAIMER: 

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books,

Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

 @~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

The blond boy had entered the infirmary shortly after the clock chimed one in the morning. He was loud and clumsy enough to waken the black adder on the radiator from his nocturnal torpor and observe the erratic course he made across the moonlit room. 

There was something about the young man that smelt wrong, Snape flickered his tongue. He did not smell warm or comforting like the older people, he smelt of tree sap and tar.

The snake watched the boy make his way across the infirmary, his white hair a beacon for the silver strands of moonlight. He observed him pause by Lavender's pen and mutter disparaging comments about pigs and Gryffindors before tiptoeing over to Hermione's tank.

If this was as good a sneak as human could do, Snape thought. He was glad he was no longer one of them. Silently he uncoiled his length and edged along the workbench, moving into the shadows like a strip of night.

Draco rubbed his backside and hissed. The boy was in pain. Snape paused lifted his diamond shaped head and tasted the air. The human smelt of venom… wasp venom. He had been stung and in a most inconvenient place too. A small part of Snape smiled at this, how very… very… What _was_ the word?

Snape crept closer watching as the young man put his wand between his teeth. He needed his hands to shift the lid, which he did with much compliant. "Bloody father." He grumbled under his breath, "Bloody 'do the right thing Draco', 'Play nicely'…" The lid grated aside and thumped down on the tabletop, both human and snake froze.

Everything sounded louder in the dark, but the scent of antiseptic and lemon drops was suddenly pervasive.

Draco reached inside the tank and none too gently whipped out its resident snake. Hermione flopped in his hand as if she were a green slinky only the tip of her tail weakly swirling about in a lazy sleepy circle giving any indication she was alive. Upon seeing this brutality Snape reared up and glared at the wicked individual who was molesting his mate. Incensed he watched as the human extracted his wand from his teeth and flicked it over Hermione's head in what looked like a very threatening manner. 

She's asleep you bipedal fungus! Snape hissed and sped forward. If any male was going to poke her in the middle of the night it should be me!

Draco swept his wand one last time over Hermione's limp form and muttered the last of the spell. The counter curse wove out and over the small green snake in electric blue fizzing and cracking, a moment later a loud pop and dazzle exploded in the air followed by a girly scream. 

"Lumos!"

The infirmary's lights flicked on to reveal Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, Poppy Pomfrey, Harry, Ron and Sam standing by the door. The screaming continued as the group raced forward to the huddled form on the floor. Hermione Granger, the Head Girl of Hogwarts sat up and rubbed her bushy brown haired head in a very perplexed fashion. 

"Would you stop screaming Draco?" She clamped her hands over her ears.

"Arrrrrrggghhh!" The high-pitched wail pierced the night. Draco's face was a mask of horror, "There's something on my backside!"  
  
"You are correct Mr Malfoy." Poppy Pomfrey tried to suppress the smirk. "It's Professor Snape."

"Merlin's balls! He'd be poisonous on principle! Get him off! Get him off!"

"Stand still Mr Malfoy, you're making him bite harder."

"Oh dear, Mr Malfoy's bounciness has not diminished in the slightest." The Head Master said trailing after the blond boy with his hands upheld in an attempt to relieve him of his snake. 

"Yeah, he's still a ferret with a bad hair day." Harry muttered and Sam snorted a laugh in agreement as the trio swept past them again.

"Stand still Mr Malfoy! Blow on him Albus."

"Blow? Madam Pomfrey in all my years no one has asked me to blow on their snake."  
  
"Don't blow on my snake!"

While Pomfrey tried to calm Draco down. Hermione looked up at the worried faces of her friends and then at Sam.  "Do I know you?"

"No," Sam shook his dark head with a sad smile. "Not yet."

"But you know who am I, don't you Mione?" Ron eagerly butted in.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "How can I forget you Ron?"

Ron's face split into a grin. "It's good to have you back Mione."

Hermione touched her forehead and frowned. "Where did I go? Harry? What's been going on? Why do I want to eat rat?"

Harry reached down and helped Hermione to her feet. "You were transformed Hermione."  
  
"Into a cat?" She asked excitedly, "Like Crookshanks? For how long?" She began to ramble on and Ron looked at Sam apologetically, "Transformations are permanent you know unlike transfigurations which have a limited time span. There was one case in the nineteen hundreds…"

"Sorry about that." Ron quipped, giving Sam's shoulder a friendly slap. "Should have warned you about Mione, she's a bit of a know it all."

"Just like Ursula…" Sam murmured in awe. "My sister." He answered Ron's questioning look.

"No, not a cat." Harry managed to explain to Hermione. "It's a long story…" He hedged her questions and the felt uncomfortable when she put her hands on her hips. "How about we get Dobby to make us some tea?"

Meanwhile Pomfrey had managed to divest Draco of his snake and was ticking both Slytherins off with a wagging finger. "Naughty! Naughty boys!"

Dumbledore smiled in relief and turned about just in time to see the young people about to leave the infirmary, he cried out, "One moment please, no dawdling off! Harry, Sam, I believe your presence is required!"

Harry and the taller boy stopped, looked at one another and cautiously returned to the Head Master.

"Very good," Albus smiled. "Mr Filch, I believe you have something to say to your father."

"I what?" Sam's eyes bugged and his face darkened. "I certainly do not!"

"Father?" Draco grimaced and looked at Potter as if Sam were mad. "Do you know this character?"

Harry shook his head. "Snape's your Dad?" He frowned a bite of anger in his voice. "We were right all along? Why did you say it was Sirius?"

"Because that flea-bitten mongrel would be a better father than – that – thing!" Sam flung a hand at the black snake draped over Pomfrey's arm.

"Snape's your father?" Draco laughed, a short, sharp chuckle that rang in the air. "Bloody hell!"

"Mr Malfoy, please go and transform Miss Brown back into her human form." Dumbledore instructed all the time keeping his benign blue eyes fixed on Sam. 

The blond boy shrugged and tentatively touched his backside. Pomfrey had just zapped it with an analgesia charm. "She suits pink better as a pig." He extracted his wand and walked off toward the pigpen.

With Draco out of earshot Sam crossed his arms indignantly and fumed, "How dare you!"

"Are you saying Snape is not your father?"

Sam looked away and chewed his lip, "no." He replied in a small voice. "He's my father."

"If he told you Severus was really Elvis you'd believe that too?" Pomfrey sceptically whispered.

"I hardly think so! Elvis has better timing." Dumbledore countered, coming up to the boy, he touched his shoulder gently, "The price you paid in the future was too high Sam. Let me make amends. Do this one thing for me, talk to Severus. Tell him to come back to us, for you, for me, for all of Hogwarts and the magical world."

Sam looked at the black adder a myriad of emotions crossing his face, he glanced at the infirmary door where his mother had been minutes before and he thought of her future, his future, his family's future.

Dumbledore watched the boy closely and when he saw some resolution he whispered to Harry. "This is where you come in. Translate the words for them and mind you don't miss a one."

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

tbc


	13. part 13

DISCLAIMER: 

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books,

Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

"Head Master, there's no need for Harry to translate." Sam said. "I was born a snake I'm fluent in parsel tongue… We all are."  
  
Harry looked confused, he tilted his head and looked at Sam as if he were the last piece of a puzzle that did not fit. "I don't understand." He said. "Snape's your father." He began to recite the facts. "You were born a snake. Your mother married Filch…" He scratched his head. "Who was your mother anyway?" he looked at the inscrutable face of Dumbledore. "Is there another Basilik around? A really, really small one?"

"No." Sam shook his head and looked at the Head Master for assistance. The last thing he needed was an irate Harry Potter on his warpath. "Hermione is my mother. She and Snape conceived all four of us while they were snakes."

"Holy shit!"   
  


"Mr Potter, language."

"I mean…" His gaze searched the infirmary in desperation. "How?" He repeated, quickly adding as his ears blushed. "I mean I know how, I know how we do it- they did it!" He swallowed painfully, "But not Hermione…not-" Gulp, "Sna-" he couldn't say the name, "with you-know-who? Isn't there an anti-conception ward over Hogwarts?"  
  


Pomfrey suppressed a chuckle, jostling the small black snake against her bosom as she shook with laughter. Dumbledore pursed his lips and hummed. The Mediwitch's response was quite a contrast to the one he had endured earlier in the day. When he had told her Sam's story, she had – to put it mildly – detonated like a primly packaged starched bomb, her untapped magic exploding books from his bookshelves and upsetting Fawkes from his stand.  

_A student pregnant by a teacher, never in all her born days!_

The chimneys and roof shingles rattled with her exclamation. She was not so naïve to believe that these things did not happened, but not in her twenty years at Hogwarts. _Never!_ In her eyes this was far worse than a simple hormone driven romp in the sack, (especially as Snape was a very sad sack) but she had already vented at long and hard about that. Albus checked to see if his ears were bleeding, selected another lemon drop and calmly allowed her to stomp about his office while Sam discretely slid into a corner and tried to hide. 

_Hermione pregnant by Snape and giving birth to four live snakes, it was unspeakable!_ _A travesty of all good witching and wizarding! The papers! The Daily Prophet, Rita Skeeter and her ilk! Dear Merlin, where were her smelling salts?_ She was beginning to feel quite faint.

Dumbledore sighed when the Mediwitch had calmed down sufficiently enough to fire questions at Sam. She effectively cracked the young man's arrogant exterior with a snort of disbelief. "Really?" she trapped the boy in his corner as he tried to spider up the wall. "Filch you say? I hardly think so! You need a good clip behind the ear my lad for lying to teachers! Argus Filch doesn't have an altruistic bone in his body and he married Hermione?"

"Y-yes." The boy stammered his dark eyes glittering with doubt. "No, not technically. No, he didn't jump the broom with her. But he took us in when she was desperate, four children in the middle of winter and nowhere to go. Hagrid was away; by the time we reached Hogwarts we were exhausted. We got into the dungeons and met Filch. I don't know what was said but we were ensconced in the dungeons and have lived there ever since." At Pomfrey's look of disbelief, Sam added. "Filch _does _look after us. He feeds us and –" He gulped and looked away. "Mum made us take his name out of gratitude. Here-" He fumbled in his pocket and held out Hermione's time turner. "This is how I got here. Filch found it amongst her things after she died." He fixed the Head Master with an unfathomable glare. "It's set to send me back by tomorrow morning."

Poppy looked at the gold and silver device and then into the boy's dark eyes, scrutinising what she saw there. "So why did you come back?"

"I wanted to see my mother."

"Is that all?"  
  
Sam looked contrite his mouth twitching. He stared down at his scuffed black shoes, but said no more.

Poppy gave Dumbledore an exasperated look. "Two Snapes at Hogwarts! What did we do to deserve this?"

"It's not what we did, Poppy." The Head Master corrected her enigmatically. "It's what we will do."

Albus Dumbledore felt better – not completely happy, but better. Poppy's niggling doubts about Sam fell in line with his own. That the boy was from the future he had no doubt. That he was the product of Severus and Hermione's misguided union he was certain. However, how Hermione could end up so desperate to live with Filch and stay with him was puzzling? How did it come to this? How did she end up disowned? More puzzling was how he kept his position in light of the media feeding frenzy Sam described? It was a stretch of credibility, but truth as Dumbledore knew, was often far stranger than fiction. 

He caught Pomfrey eyeing the young Mr Filch suspiciously and was gratified that the tall thin young man had the good sense to look guilty.  
   
"Anti-conception ward? That old wives tale?" Pomfrey told Harry. "Do we live in a barren wasteland Mr Potter?" The black snake tried to get away from the woman; but was firmly clasped behind the head. "How could the mandrakes reproduce or the flowers or the trees? Not to mention the ethical and moral dilemma the existence of such a ward would construe."

Harry looked at Dumbledore in frustration. "Rumours of my omnipotence are highly over-rated. I'm afraid I cannot stop people from procreating as much as I can stop them from making bad decisions." His eyes twinkled mischievously as he consider Sam then the black adder in Poppy's arms, "However Madam Pomfrey usually intervenes before circumstances get out of hand."  
  
Pomfrey puffed out her ample breast and the snake squirmed under the sudden constriction.

"So what happened here?" Harry demanded. 

Dumbledore sighed and shrugged. "An accident, Mr Potter, as we told you."

Sam shifted uncomfortably on his feet and looked sad. Dumbledore continued, "A happy accident for you Mr Filch, but the circumstances you revealed about our future seemed to say the opposite?"

The black haired boy looked pinched, "Our life is not unhappy, though… " He mumbled knowing he was on a losing wicket, "I haven't been entirely honest with you."

Pomfrey gave Dumbledore a look that oozed of self-congratulatory 'I told you so'. But before they could ask Sam anything else Harry blurted, "Does Hermione know?"

"No and for the time being we want to keep it that way." Pomfrey replied, her words adding a new tension to the air. "Discretion is called for."

Harry gave Sam a quick look to see if the _Ravenclaw_ understood the obvious implications behind her words. To Harry's way of thinking, you did not tell anyone about a pregnancy unless you were planning use a post-conception potion, so there would be no need.  

If Sam understood he did not give so much as a glimmer away. It struck Harry that Sam was very like his father, for all the boy professed to hating Snape (and a Snape claiming a Black as his father was proof enough in his book), he had somehow perfected Snape's patented look of icy antipathy. Harry watched Sam lean back against the workbench paste a passive aggressive sneer on his face and sniff at the Mediwitch, as if to say: _So what? Do your worst. I don't care._

_Genetic bastardy, _Harry mused. _Poor sod._

An unhappy squeal rang out behind them and the group turned to see Lavender Brown pop back into existence. 

Draco screwed up his nose and waved a hand in front of his face. "Whatever cheap chemist shop plonk you've sprayed on yourself smells like cat's piss! Whrooar Lavender! I think you need to refund. You pong!"

Lavender's face crumbled as she looked down at the muck in which she stood, her knees knocked together under the hem of her filthy uniform kilt and her bottom lip stuck out and began to quiver dangerously. "Mummy?" She looked about the infirmary, searching the questioning faces blinking back at her. She must have been asleep her face was puffy and eyes half closed and her voice wavered as she cried. "Mummy!"

"Oh deary me." Dumbledore flapped over to the girl. "Poppy allow Sam and his father a moment alone while I deal with Miss Brown. Mr Malfoy, wait with Mr Potter." he turned his attention back to the distraught girl in the pigpen. "Come along Lavender I know a few odour eater spells and a couple of noxious fume and stain removers." He opened the pigpen gate and led the girl out, gently unhooking the lead about her neck. "Yes, we can get industrial strength cleaners piped into the Gryffindors girl's bathroom…" He answered her sniffle question with an empathetic smile. "And yes, I'm sure Madam Pinch can find a weight watchers magazine too."

"Right then Mr Filch." Poppy drew Sam's attention by the derisive way she slurred his surname into something that sounded very much like 'filth'. "Here's your father." She unlooped Snape and draped him carefully on the workbench beside the boy. "Don't just stand there like looking like a limp dishrag! Talk to him. Let us know when you're finished. I'll be over there with Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy… with wand poised."

Sam looked down at the blacksnake as it rolled about on the smooth surface of the table, then to the boys and Mediwitch who were standing in an uncomfortable circle down the ward. "Okay…" he breathed in resignation. "Where to begin?" He looked at the snake as it edged toward his hand and flickered its tongue at his outstretched index finger. "Yes," He said softly, slipping into parsel tongue. "I do smell familiar." Gingerly he ran his finger over the snake's head. "I should you see…" He smiled weakly, a watery expression on his pale face, "I'm you."

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

tbc


	14. part 14

DISCLAIMER: 

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books,

Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

Sam caressed the snake's head with his finger listening to the reptilian words it spoke. 

"Food? You smell of food? Feed me. Feed me now before I bite you!"

Sam shook his head. Doesn't everyone want to be an animal at some point in his or her lives? To eat sleep, dream… mate. Sam had wanted to curl up like a cat on a warm window and dream away his days. He could see why his father would be attracted by the option, to be a pet, to be someone else's responsible and have none of your own.  But life – his life was more complicated than that, but how to convince Snape, how to get the man to re-emerge from the snakeskin?  

From everything Sam had heard Severus Snape was a complete bastard, absolutely brilliant in potions, wasted in his job at Hogwarts, but a bastard in that cunning Slytherin way. They had something in common then, Sam conceded. He knew 'clever', he had learnt early on that being too clever for his own good was a very dangerous thing to be. He played his intellect down shifting the goal posts, changing the ground under people's feet to risk it all and not get caught. 

Instinctively Sam knew that an appeal to his father's sentiments would be pointless. After his mother's death Filch had told him much of his father. He thought he knew the man; Severus Snape would not care a jot if he knocked up a student that was her problem not his. He had better things to do. Severus Snape mentioned things he heard over torture as easily as most shared gossip over high tea, he was a Death Eater, a turncoat who killed his friends, a man with no heart... and that wizard, that man - this snake - was his father. 

If he had to do this, Sam thought. He was going to do it properly. He may not exist in the next five minutes, but his life was forfeit in the future anyway. He knew clever, so he was clever. He decided he had to out play the player and he was going to accomplidh it very well indeed. He drew out of himself the things of the snake he remembered in his youth, the things a snake would know, would find intriguing and he posed a question that even the most humble snake could not resist...

"I am you."

"You are me?" The snake hissed, his voice deep, threatening and whispering like distant thunder. He nudged Sam's finger with its head in derision. "You smell like me, you taste like me, but you don't look like me."

"You've been a snake too long, Severus Snape. If you don't believe me, allow us to transform you back into the man?"

The snake looked at Sam with a frank interest. "You are me?" It repeated, its head bobbing. "You are a young man, I am a snake. How can you be me?"

"Listen to the voice inside, deep down inside." Sam coaxed the creature. "What is it saying to you?"

"I'm hungry."

"Deeper." Sam pressed.

The snake moved away and thrashed about as it thought, finally it reared up and asked, "I am a man?"

Sam nodded. "Yes." The boy felt a surge of triumph, appeal to the ego of an arrogant man and you have him. "A very strong man and a powerful wizard."

"And you are me?"

Sam laughed, "You cannot see clearly with those snake eyes or think with that tiny reptilian brain, trust your nose Snape, you always used to."

Snape sank down and lay on the tabletop. "I am tired, my blood freezes in my veins."

"Snakes are primitive creatures."

"You do not like me, I can smell it on you. Why should I trust you?"

"You can smell your own distaste at your condition. You are a man, Severus Snape. You were Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Be that person again." 

"Why should I? I like being a snake, there's comfort in the crunch of mice bones in my gizzard."

Sam was stumped. It was like talking to a petulant child. He struggled to think of an answer, then sputtered out the truth. "Because we need you!"

Wrong thing to say, Sam saw the snake withdraw before he could retract the sloppy statement. "Okay," he breathed. "Wait! I will tell you the truth. I am from the future!"

The tone of his voice stopped Snape's retreat. Sam should have realised that time has no meaning for reptiles. They lived by seasons and urges; they measured their life in meals and matings. 

Damn! He cursed at his own stupidity. Why had he said that? It was clumsy and inept. Was it was because it was the truth? He felt a wave of self-disgust crash over him. No. He did not need his father! It was all the stories of his parent's abilities that forced those words from his mouth. He did not need them, whereas his world desperately did. Yes, he felt he anxiety diminish; he was doing this for the magical world.

"Where is my mate, her scent is fading."

"She's human now, just as you should be." He shot back

"Human?" The black adder rose up and peered about the room. "I am alone?"

"Even more alone than you realise." Sam replied. 

In his time Voldemort may have died at Potter's hands, but a greater evil had risen in his place, a prion disease carried on an owl's claw. Only those with magic in their veins succumbed to it and like a Dementors kiss were destroyed from within. 

Sam and his siblings were lucky, his mother kept them out of the populated areas, but the insidious disease crept over the land raining down death and madness on all it touched. The Muggle world was no escape the disease invaded everywhere. By the time he and his brothers and sister were four Britain's wizarding population was firmly in its grip. It left the country an isolated pocket of seething contamination, green fields and bobbing flowers before empty cottages their doors painted with angry red crosses. No one could get in and no one could get out, no one could escape the plague. People did what they could. Dumbledore did what he could, but it was never enough. The science was not fast enough and the prion mutated. Dumbledore was a misguided fool! The old man was in his dotage, he withdrew under the pressure of a militarised Ministry, became subservient to the factions that took hold and quietly sat back as society crumbled about them. 

They needed to fight back or there would be no one left to stand, to leave a mark, to be magic, they needed the Muggles, they needed their art. Filch understood, for all his thick leather boots and belt, he knew the score. Get it sorted Dumbledore! He heard his father's drunken roar. One dangerous thing knows another. Go to the Muggle's, the Dark Arts, do whatever it takes to save our world!

"You are me?"

"Yes." Sam sighed. Was his father so far gone he would be trapped in this circular argument with him forever? "I am you."

A silence followed, Sam shifted on his feet and wiped his brow. This was a waste of time and he had so little of it left! How could he tell the people here that they would suffer in the future? He could not, he mist do this alone. Where was his mother? He wanted to speak to her? Damn, the time was slipping by. 

Sam had told the truth about his past, in so far that his mother succumbed to the prion disease and Hogwarts was less a school than a quarantine station. He glanced down the ward to where Pomfrey anxiously fiddled with her wand. He saw Potter nudge Draco Malfoy forward and heard Draco's half-hearted protest. He shook his head at them. "Not yet."

"If you are me…?" Snape asked, "Can you prove it?"

"Pardon?" Sam straightened up and waved for Potter, Pomfrey and Malfoy to approach. Got you!  He knelt down and stared into the small snakes faceted eyes. "Yes I can prove it, but as I said before snakes are primitive creatures. I can only show you the proof –" he paused a raised his index finger watching as the small snake's head bobbed as he waved it. "Irrefutable proof –" Snape was mesmerised, "if - you are human."

"We smell the same, taste them same…" Snape cocked his head to one side, his gaze locked on the boy's finger, his tongue darting in and out. Finally he softly offered up a hiss,  "Will you change me back to a snake when you have shown me?"

Sam did not even blink. "Of course," He smiled up at Pomfrey. "You have my word on it." He nodded at Draco, "Do it now!"

He stepped back quickly as Malfoy descended with raised his wand. 

Harry nodded as Sam visibly relaxed, "Quite the snake charmer Mr Filch."

"Yes." Sam gave the shorter boy a sad smile, "I always thought that was my moth-" 

Sam never finished his sentence. He was engulfed in an abrupt expanding ball of blue light. Harry and Draco staggered back and Madam Pomfrey scuttled away as the light grew in the air about them, sending out sizzling bolts of energy between the tabletop and where they stood. It pulsed and surged and the noise rattled the windows and jars and teeth in their head. As soon as it appeared it vanished and with it Sam..

"Ohhh…" A very mussed up Professor Snape was climbing to his hands and knees on top of the workbench. He got caught up on the sleeve of his robes, rolled over and off the workbench to land on the hard infirmary floor with a bone-cracking crunch. "Owww!" He bellowed, a moment later he was on his feet swaying on his widely spaced feet and holding his bowed head in his hands. "Merlin's teeth!" He swore through gritted teeth.

"You must have banged your head." Draco said.

Harry looked at the Potion's Master and then at the spot where his son had stood a few moments before. There was nothing left of the boy, not a footprint, not a speck of dust. Harry's heart plummeted; who would have thought Sam would have sacrificed himself for his Dad? A sense of déjà vu mixed with grief stuffed up his throat. He softly choked out something he had said to Sam when he first met him, his voice growing louder as he looked at Snape. "I would go see Madam Pomfrey if I were you."

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

tbc


	15. part 15

DISCLAIMER:   
  
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books,  
Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
  
  
  
  
@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~  
  
  
Time travel was an intriguing paradox - to the experts, but in the hands of amateurs it was a disaster.   
  
Muggle, Wizard, gnome and goblin all lived under the rule of time, but few understood it. They watched 'it tick away', 'watched the clock' and the 'days pass by'. A few dreamt of altering time, of winding back the clock, making it up, putting it back, but few ever did so… They were amateurs and they knew it. What did they understand of the fabric of the universe? Were they Einstein or Merlin? No, they were too busy living their ordinary lives to worry about chaos theory. Why send out a ripple on a still pond? Why even throw the stone? Why indeed, unless your world was in peril.   
  
That was what Sam had believed and why he had risked it all, but what did that get him? Not a fancy statue in the middle of Piccadilly Circus. Not a face on a five-pound note, not a mention on the six o'clock news. No, nothing but a quick exit into limbo with all of the other hapless amateur time travellers, into nothingness, into a blink of existence that terminated with not so much as a sigh.  
  
The fundamental problem was simple. Time was a constant. People were not. They were as inconstant as leaves on deciduous trees. Sam had existed in the future, but he had altered the course of his future and now he did not exist, not even as a memory… Five seconds after Sam had blinked out of the past not even the illustrious Albus Dumbledore could recall his name. Sam's universe had funnelled inward collapsing in on itself, destroying whole lives, histories and thwarting destinies all by a twist of hand and a few persuasive words to one person.  
  
And that one person was not impressed. No, not in the slightest, in fact he was so unimpressed he was fuming.

  
  
Severus Snape stood with a sore head and a disconcerting feeling of not knowing what purpose his arms and legs served, listening to the drivel spouting from Potter, Malfoy and Pomfrey's mouths.  
  
_He had been a what! A black adder, a small black snake by Malfoy's hand?_ He shook his aching head, felt in his pocket for his watch and summoned the time and date. _Who knew Malfoy was so proficient at curses?_ His watch sprang open and spouted forth a mournful funeral dirge while forming a glowing antique clock face and calendar in the air before him. The clock face bled globs of green light that dripped into the nothingness and the calendar moved with bats and snakes. _Two weeks! He had lost two weeks? The NEWTS were as good as over and he had missed the opportunity to gloat over his students suffering? This was beyond reason!  
_  
"If…" Snape's throat felt strange as he formed the words. "If I am to believe you my classes are over and the NEWTs completed?"  
  
"Yes." Pomfrey nodded. "That's right. Dumbledore took over your classes and the exams went without a hitch."  
  
"Dear Merlin." He sank down onto a nearby stool muttering. "Do I have a classroom left?"  
  
"Is it true?" Hermione's frantic voice came from the door. Everyone turned and looked at the Head Girl as she stalked into the infirmary followed by a very timid, red-faced Ron.  
  
"Tell me he did not blunder into my storeroom?" Snape asked.  
  
Poppy ignored the look of disgust on the Potion's Master ascetic face. _Potions, was that all the man thought about?_ She had more mundane things to see to.... like finding a diplomatic answer to Hermione Granger's question.   
  
She studied the girl and clung to the hope that Ronald Weasley had been too squeamish to mention that infamous indiscretion between two erstwhile snakes, but that hope was fading. She gulped and the world spun as she saw herself having a very sordid and heated discussion with a very grumpy Snape, distraught Hermione and a gawping audience of testosterone laden teenage boys.   
  
Hermione sucked in a brave lungful of air and spoke the words Pomfrey was dreading to hear... 

"Have I missed my exams?" She pleaded.  
  
The Mediwitch almost choked before she heaved a sigh of relief. Seeing stars she realized she had been dangerously close to passing out from holding her breath.  
  
"All except for the Latin final that's tomorrow." Draco smugly stated. "It's in the afternoon."  
  
"That's good for Lavender." Hermione snapped, "But not for me. I don't take Latin!"   
  
"If I find one Lemon Drop amongst my bottles…" poppy could hear Snape still grumbling, his eyebrows scrunched together in a frown. "Where is my storeroom key?" He slapped his breast pocket and extracted a length of silver chain with small silver key and instantly looked relieved. "Thank Merlin, I'd like to see him get past my wards." He gave a quietly evil grin. "I wonder what the Antipodean weather is like this time of year?"  
  
Meanwhile... "Oh no!" Draco flapped melodramatically. "The great Hermione Granger is going to fail! Oh the horror! Oh the humanity! Feel that? It's the world spinning off its axis!"  
  
Harry came up and shoved Draco in the shoulder. "Shut up Malfoy"  
  
"Watch it, Potter." Draco swung about and pointed his wand at Harry's nose. "I at least have a fighting chance of passing my finals unlike some in your precious house." He gave Ron a meaningful nod.  
  
"What good are exams going to be if you're expelled?" Harry asked. "Don't think Dumbledore will forget who cursed Hermione in the first place."  
  
"Those are a lot of words for someone who doesn't know many, Potter." He tapped his wand on Harry's glasses. "My father would never let that happen. It's like I said: Watch it."  
  
"I'd watch it if I were you." Ron stepped up and indicated where Harry had his wand poised over a delicate area of Draco's anatomy. "Wouldn't want that to be anymore slug-like than it is already now would we Malfoy?"   
  
"That's enough!" Pomfrey exclaimed. "Behave! I have had enough of these antics to last me a lifetime."  
  
The boys looked at the Mediwitch. Behind her back Snape was on his feet with his arms folded into his robe glaring at them in a very bat like fashion. The evil intent in Snape's eyes was enough of a deterrent and the boys quickly moved away from one another and the room fell into an uneasy silence.  
  
Persistent as ever Hermione stuck out her chin and asked, "Is everything Ron told me true?" Her question hung and twisted in the tense air.   
  
Please Albus appear now and stop this torture! Poppy prayed, looking at the girl in sympathy then at Snape in fear and trepidation. She felt she had to say something, to at least find where the land lay before the Head Master stumbled into dangerous territory.  
  
"Yes dear, for the good part of three weeks your were a frog, then a snake and now you're yourself again… Yes. That's right…" and she wiped down the front of her nurses pinny with a deft hand and began to nervously hum.  
  
"Well?" Snape snapped making the walls ring with his demand, "There's something more to this Poppy Pomfrey, what is it?"   
  
"Perhaps after the Head Master has returned from the Gryffindor tower?" Poppy hedged avoiding eye contact with the hateful man– knowing that it would be fatal if she so much as glanced at him. "Really Severus!" She forced a happy smile and went to her first aid kit. "I should see to that bump on your head."  
  
Snape let the matter drop - for the moment – his face tense as the Mediwitch went through her potions, and unguents. His head hurt, it was late and he felt drained and exhausted. He only lifted his gaze when he felt someone staring at him.   
  
Hermione Granger stood before him, biting her bottom lip still clearly upset about missing her finals. The teacher in Snape felt a pang on sympathy for the girl, this was quickly squashed by the meddlesome chit's identity and the prospect that she may have to repeat a year - another year in his Potions class no less. _Dear Circe, another year of hands up, answer ready, perfect potions and endless difficult questions. Merlin's balls! What had he done to deserve this? Hadn't he repented? Wasn't he on the good side? Oww! _His head hurt and looking up at Granger he had this undeniable, almost compulsive need to devour something small, furry and mousy whole.  
  
"What is it?" He spat making the girl jump. "No answers this time Granger?"  
  
"Was there someone else here?" She inexplicably asked, Snape's eyes narrowed and she nervously looked away, her hands loosely clasped over her stomach. "Harry? Was there someone else here besides you?" She waved a hand about to indicate the ward.  
  
Harry scratched his head. He had the sense he should remember, it was on the tip of his tongue but when he chased the thought it slithered away. He shook his head. "Only Dumbledore and Lavender earlier."  
  
His answer did not satisfy Hermione and she scowled slightly as she gently ran a hand over her tummy. "You sense it too, don't you Professor?" She gently asked.   
  
"No!" Snape flung back his hair and sniffed. "Don't be asinine! Save your queer feelings for Divination."   
  
He was lying she could tell by the way he slid his gaze back to her to check she had moved on in her train of thought. No such luck mister! Hermione frowned until her mouth became a thin line, but before she could ask another question Pomfrey returned.   
  
"Don't wander off Miss Granger. I want to complete a physical on you." The Mediwitch made Snape enter a cubicle and swished the curtain closed about them. "You boys!" Her voice carried through the screen. "Go back to your rooms, extract the Head Master from his gossiping and please – please just go to bed. It's been a long night, there's nothing that can't be left until morning."  
  
Shut out Hermione wandered over to Harry and Ron. "I'll see you shortly?"  
  
Harry nodded and glared as Draco passed them. They dawdled toward the door, Ron looking at Hermione long and hard before asking. "Lavender takes Latin?"  
  
"The only reason Lavender took Latin was because she thought it would help her with her dancing." Hermione sighed sadly.  
  
"Dancing?" Harry asked.  
  
"Latin dancing," Hermione said as the boys crossed the foyer toward the moving staircases. "She wanted to understand the lyrics."   
  
Harry stopped, looked at her and blinked. He followed Ron and companionably asked his friend. "Ron, are you pondering what I'm pondering?"   
  
Ron looked up at him with a simple smile, "Well, I think so, Harry, but Kevin Costner with an English accent?"  
  
Harry shook his head.   
  
The boys ascended the staircases and gave Hermione one last jaunty wave before they vanished out of sight  
  
"What?" Hermione heard Ron's voice echoing down the stairwell. "I was serious!"   
  
Harry's groan in answer was barely heard over the grinding of rotating stonework.  
  
@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~  
  
Some time later Hermione had curled up on one of the infirmary beds and drifted into the cottonwool land of dreams when a swish of robes and the unmistakably scent of Muggle sweets filled her nose. She propped herself up on her elbows and blearily watched as the shadowy form of the Head Master swept by and went into the curtained cubicle that still contained Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey.   
  
Tiredly she sank back down to the pillow and yawned. Perhaps she should have returned to her rooms with the boys? How long does it take to put a sticking plaster on a bumped head?  
  
Time passed and she was again pleasantly drifting off to sleep when Snape's heated voice shot through the air like an acidic arrow.  
  
"I in no way had sexual relations with that student!"  
  
Hermione had never heard Professor Snape so emotional. The very sound of his voice sent her heart racing and set her senses to full power. Gone was the cool composure and measured voice, gone was the icy control, gone was the precise and thoughtful sarcasm, present was a crackling and steaming turmoil like an overheated buffalo stuck in a mud pool.  
  
"Oh very believable Severus. Well done." Pomfrey's voice was calm but sure. "You've convinced us all."  
  
"I'm afraid you did Severus." The Head Master asserted. "Denial won't erase the fact."  
  
"You are the one who offers sweets to children!" Snape's voice raised a notch. "I am not a paedophile!"  
  
"She is of age Severus." Dumbledore's was working hard at diplomacy. "If that's any consolation."  
  
"So I won't be charged with statutory rape? Wonderful! I am placated."  
  
Hermione could hear the angry ruffling of curtains and robes. She was shocked and bemused by Snape's lack of composure and the reason behind him losing it.   
  
_Snape had been caught with a student?_ She cringed. _I hope she- he- it- wore greaseproof paper?_ Come to think of it, Snape would probably insist on it, he was obsessive about cleanliness, one look at his classroom proved that. Plus, he looked the type to be into kinky sex. Hermione could almost imagine him snivelling: _here's the rubber sheets and the roll of greaseproof paper. Wrap yourself up in it and put on the antlers, that's a naughty, naughty girl._  
  
"This is ridiculous!" Snape paused. Hermione could hear his heavy breathing. "I cannot be held responsible for my actions while I was in that state." He rationalized externalising his problem and distancing himself from it… "I was a snake! I'm going to my rooms."  
  
_Snake? Snape had sex with a student when he was a snake? _Hermione shuddered in revulsion. _That was horrible! _She could not think about it! _Who in their right mind would let a snake do that to them? Parkinson? Goyle? Malfoy? Who was that damaged to want a snake up their fundamental orifice?_  
  
_Unless…_

She felt the cogs squeak and slowly, very slowly turn on pins in her rusty mind, unless the student was…. A figurative lead weight hit Hermione in the head. Shakily she pulled the pillow to her mouth and squeaked. _Unless they were a snake too?_ She painfully clutched the pillow. Her knuckles whitened as she buried her face into it and tried to suffocate herself. _No… oh… No!  
_  
"No."   
  
Dumbledore's word stopped Snape as the curtain swished open and the light in the cubicle split out over the room, splashing over a shocked and gasping Hermione with an indented pillow on her knees.   
  
The Head Master smiled beatifically "You're awake Miss Granger, good, good. We have something we need to discuss with you after Madam Pomfrey has completed your physical examination."  
  
Helplessly Hermione looked up as the Mediwitch swept down on her and her cubicle's curtains were closed with a decisive swirl, blocking out the sharp silhouette of Snape and the shorter rumpled shape of Dumbledore.  
  
"Please tell me?" She begged, sitting up and beseeching the older woman in a husky whisper. "Please?" She clutched onto Pomfrey's sleeve with a pathetic look on her face. She tried to make it sound funny and impossible, but it came out flat and serious. "Snape did not have sex with me while we were both snakes?"  
  
@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~  
  
tbc


	16. part 16

DISCLAIMER:   
  
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books,  
Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
  
  
@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~ 

"Please tell me?" She begged, sitting up and beseeching the older woman in a husky whisper. "Please?" She clutched onto Pomfrey's sleeve with a pathetic look on her face. She tried to make it sound funny and impossible, but it came out flat and serious. "Snape did not have sex with me while we were both snakes?"

The Mediwitch tried to look convincing as she lied, "I'll be able to tell you that in a minute my dear." Of course she knew the answer already, but she was buying time and there was something very important she needed to ascertain first. Poising her wand over Hermione's abdomen she slowly swept it down the girl's torso.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, her eyes growing large.

"Routine check, my dear." Pomfrey smiled as she paused over the girl's hammering heart. _Dear Merlin, the girl was tachycardic and little wonder the atmosphere was dense enough to cut with a knife._ "It will give me your vitals – pulse, blood pressure and ascertain the state of most of your major organs-" The wand moved lower, "Heart, lungs, liver, kidneys, intestine, colon… oh."

"Oh?" Hermione repeated. 

"Oh?" she heard Dumbledore murmur and could almost see the sulphurous glower from Snape burning two holes in the curtains. Everyone knew that in the 'laypersons guide to medicine' 'Oh' was a very bad prognostic indicator.

"Oh… look at the time it's nearly four o'clock in the morning." Pomfrey said cheerfully - a little too cheerfully. Hermione's heart felt it was about to jump out of her chest and bounce about the room like an inside out bunny. _Oh no, it was something bad. She must be dying!_

"Accio blanket!" Pomfrey flicked her wand away into her apron pocket and began to hum tunelessly.

The hairs on Hermione's arm stood up and a chill settled in her stomach. "Oh?" She repeated, her throat tight while her vision swam with white and black spots.

A folded soft cotton twill blanket floated through the curtains the older witch snatched it up and draped it over her knees with a purposefully tap on her knees. "It will be alright Hermione."

"What is it?" She pleaded.

Pomfrey's humming grew louder and more intense. "There!" She ignored her question, smiling tightly as she tucked her in. "Try to get some rest." Her voice wavered as she parted the curtains. "I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight."

What? As if she could sleep! "Did I- we?" Hermione called before the woman bustled out of sight.

"All in good time Hermione. I have to finalise the results." Pomfrey replied not unsympathetically and closed the curtains with a dramatic swirl. 

Beyond the curtains Hermione could hear the Mediwitch shush Dumbledore and Snape with a perfunctory hiss. Silently the older woman led the two men away.

"Goodnight."  Hermione called out as they moved past her bed, but got no reply. Clutching the blanket to her chin, she sank down to the pillow and stared at the shadowed ceiling. For the next hour she watched the light seep in and the shadows fade, fighting sleep she wondered what the significance of an "oh" could be.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

"You want me to what?"

  
"To tell Hermione?" Pomfrey calmly repeated.

  
Snape stood up and paced the length of Dumbledore's office. It was nearly dawn and his bad temper matched his level of exhaustion. "Do you have any idea what you are asking? She's a teenage girl! She thinks sex is love and that love is some puerile pop song with insufferable fluffy animals!"

"You underestimate Hermione. She is not your typical adolescent. Give her a little more credit please."

Snape crossed his arms and stopped his incessant pacing. His stillness did not last long. He grew so agitated he had to stalk back and forth giving off vibes of jittery magic and intense hostility. He could barely mutter. "Give a Gryffindor credit they become Gilderoy Lockhart!"

"You got her pregnant Snape, you should tell her."

"So you say," Snape pointed an accusatory sneer at Pomfrey, "but where's the proof?"

"If Minerva were here you would know better! Hermione Granger is the least likely person in the entire school to fall pregnant. She has too much at stake." As if proving her point the mediwitch angrily flicked her wand and conjured up an image of Hermione's uterus. 

"Poppy please." Dumbledore's gasp of surprise and Snape's hiccough of revulsion punctuated the air, but she ignored them as she concentrated on what she was seeing instead. 

Dumbledore shielded his eyes from the impromptu female anatomy lesson. "Some of us have delicate stomachs. Jelly baby, Severus?"

"Ugh no." Snape stared at the three-dimensional image of the internal organ transfixed. "Hold on," He blinked away, reconsidered the Head Masters offer and asked. "Are they real babies?"

"Oh grow up!" Pomfrey fumed. "No matter how much you confirmed old bachelors would like to believe babies are found under cabbages they are not vegetables! They are flesh and blood." She focused on the pulsating red and shiny organ, manipulating the image so that she could see inside and concentrate on the four tiny bumps buried into a convoluted and engorged endometrium. 

"This is Miss Granger's womb and those-" She jabbed a finger at the bumps bringing the attention of the men back to her, "Are embryos." She zoomed in and the image passed inside to reveal a tiny wormlike form, again ignoring the squeamish sounds the Head Master made. 

"Your babies." She glared at Snape as he dug out a green jelly baby from a small paper bag, snapping the image away with a sharp gesture. "Stop being an ass."

  
"Or asp as the case maybe." Dumbledore chuckled more to himself than anyone else and happily chewed on an orange sweet making soft appreciative noises. 

Snape and Pomfrey glared at each other, then stared at the Head Master with tight-mouthed sour faces. 

Dumbledore stopped chewing at their look and began to sagely stroke his beard. "Ah yes." Her swallowed and cleared his throat. "Tell her, Severus." To emphasise his sobriety he pulled down his white eyebrows and gruffly commanded. "It's the decent thing to do."

  
"Why should I?" The Potions Master sniffed. "I renounce any interest in those…" He screwed up his nose and sneered, "things." 

"Babies." Pomfrey emphasised.

"Parasitic blastocysts."

  
"Children."

  
"They don't even have a primitive spinal column woman!"

"Your progeny have neural tubes and are over a week old."

"They can be one month, one year old I still have no interest in them." He folded his arms and walked away.

  
"Severus?" Dumbledore warned. "Don't speak too soon."

Snape gave the old wizard a hawkish look. "What do you know about children? All I know is they are best cooked over a low flame."

"Your own children are different from those your classes, Severus. You can't flambé them."

"So Filch can't dust off the barbeque?"

Pomfrey almost stomped her foot. "That's enough! You will tell Hermione!"

"It's for the best Severus." Dumbledore coddled the man.

  
Snape reluctantly conceded. "Very well. Yes, I will tell her, but-" He smiled dangerously at his colleagues, "only if you come with me."

"Oh we wouldn't miss it for the world." Dumbledore clapped his hands together and rose from his seat. 

"Dear Merlin." 

"Albus, it's four twenty three in the morning!"

The Head Master paused and sulked. He felt the lack of enthusiasm and sank back down into his chair. "Meet me at the infirmary at seven?" 

  
Pomfrey nodded while Snape whirled about and headed for the door. 

"Oh Severus," Dumbledore's voice stopped the Potions Master before he could leave. "I seemed to have misplaced a bag of liquorice all sorts in your class, if you find the bag could you return it to me? I think I left it in your storeroom?" 

"My storeroom?" Snape's shoulders stiffened, followed by an incomprehensible grumble of defeat.

"By the way, the weather in the Auckland Islands is blustery. Wonderful for albatross, not so good for that jar of rare Siberian dragon scales you were saving."

Dumbledore was not sure that it was the grinding of the rotating staircase or crooked teeth that marked Snape's perfunctory exit.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

"I'm what?"

"With child." Snape muttered into his collar before wiping his mouth nervously. 

On either side of the tall dark imposing man stood a prim Poppy Pomfrey, a dusty and rumbled Albus Dumbledore and in a state of high dudgeon, Minerva 'not one of mah gahls!' McGonagall.

Snape's dark gaze drifted off over to the windows to wistfully study the morning sunlight playing on the windowsills, but his shoulder hunched as if preparing for a blow.

"Pregnant." Minerva spat with a firm nod and a pursed look at the Potions Master.

"As in having a baby?" Hermione tried to clarify.

"Baby?" Poppy fiddled with a stray curl that had escaped her starched hat and let out a nervous laugh. "Yes… baby."

Snape locked his gazes on the Mediwitch, but she avoided eye contact, instead humming out a long plaintive note.  "What's the matter with you woman?" He asked with an annoyed expression. "Is the idiot child pregnant or not?"

McGonagall moved, but Dumbledore stopped her, muttering. "All in good time Minerva."

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked reaching out to touch Pomfrey's arm, "Am I?"

"Hermione, please take a seat." Dumbledore's voice took on that note of quiet command that exuded power. "Severus, Minerva, be civil. I know you can be, no use pretending otherwise." He directed the girl to a chair while everyone focused on the Mediwitch.

Hermione shakily gained a seat while Snape faded into the shadows behind the Head Master's back, checking his distance from Professor McGonagall. Slipping just out of her line of sight while one of his hands was strategically placed over his crotch. By the look on McGonagall's face it was very politic move.

Once the occupants of the infirmary had settled, Dumbledore nodded to Pomfrey to begin.

"Yes." Poppy said as. "You are pregnant, but not with a witch or wizard."

Snape blinked and frowned in annoyance while McGonagall began to expand with anger.

"A Squib?" Hermione hedged.

  
"If only." Poppy replied.

The girl's expression grew fraught. She sought out Snape and accused. "What did you do to me?"

"Yes?" Minerva wheezed through a tight jaw and sharp teeth. "What did you do to her Professor?"

"I beg your pardon?" Snape protested pulling himself to his full height. He jutted out his pointed chin but for all his haughtiness a tell tale line of sweat was visible on his top lip. "Nothing unusual I believe. The usual for snakes I would think. Why? What is going on Pomfrey?" He demanded, slipping a quick glance at McGonagall to make sure she was out of 'knee in groin' territory. 

Pomfrey sighed. There was no easy way to say it. "You're carrying snakes." She gave Snape a disgusted look as this information sank in. "While you were – indisposed - as a snake, Professor Snape-" She fumbled as the stunned expressions of Minerva and Hermione impacted upon her. "That is, instinct got the better of…" 

Her voice trailed off as Hermione's outraged face lifted and turned toward the tall Potions Master. She stared at him in mute amazement, only dimly aware that McGonagall had lifted her skirt and was raising a boot. 

Snape saw the motion and slithered behind the Head Master. Hermione blinked and struggled a gasping breath. "What!"

"What indeed Professor Snape!" McGonagall huffed after him like a heat seeking bagpipe. "Come out and face me like a man you filthy excreta!"

"Temper Minerva. You promised to be civil." Albus Dumbledore wagged a finger at her. "Have you been working out?" He commented as he caught sight of her leg and gave her an appreciative nod.

"Albus." She warned, her Scottish accent and temper grown thick and Glaswegian. "Hasn't there been enough sexual harassment in Hogwarts to last a life time?"

Dumbledore looked at McGonagall, then at Snape and chastised slipped one of his hands over his crotch too. "I apologise Minerva." He murmured with his head bowed. "Sugar high too many sweeties."

"I told you she was related to a harpy." Snape mumbled in his ear suddenly feeling they had accidentally apparated into the midst of a radical feminist rally. Diplomatically they tried to fade into the woodwork.

"Four baby adders." Poppy spoke to Hermione, her voice soft as she squeezed the stunned young witch's hand, "You have four babies growing inside of you."

  
Hermione shook her head, opened her mouth, closed it, paused and frowned. Tilting her head to one side she looked up and studied Snape, incredibly puzzled that _he_ could be a sexual creature, her eyes dropping to his hand as it hovered over his crotch, a snake and a trouser snake. It was like discovering your parent's had a love life. The man stared back at her expressionless as a dank stone wall. "Oh… " 

She paled noticeably and swayed on the chair and to everyone's surprise Snape swept forward to steady her. She looked up at him as if to confirm this news and meeting his eyes and shuddered. 

"Yes, Miss Granger." He confirmed her worst fears. "It would appear it _was_ the usual."

"Oh." Hermione clutched her midriff and searched the faces of the other people in the room. "Snakes? Four of them?" She was trembling and felt nauseous. She passed a clammy hand over her face before asking. "Oh shit." She cursed, her world spinning until all she could see was black wool and vivid tartan. "Who's going to tell my parents?"

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

tbc


	17. part 17

DISCLAIMER: 

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books,

Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

Four years later….

Transformations were rare in the wizardry world but not unheard of. In the distant past a few princes had been turned into frogs, popular myth returning them to their previous form and lives, more human and less distant, but the truth was far more brutal. They remained frogs and were replaced as easily as Mafia dons, because (let's face it) who in their right mind would bow to an amphibian? Let alone kiss one?

The more modern transformations formed the basis of magical research and experimentation. _How long before it was a permanent condition? How long before the humanity within them reached extinction point? How long before the tranformee forgot who they were and wanted to remain what they had transformed into? _Were the kind of questions commonplace amongst the higher echelons of St Mungos and the Ministry of Magic's Research Groups.

Over the four years since her transformation Hermione had often wondered about her experience, her musings coinciding with the arrival of a journal article on the subject or a request for research. As a rule she read the articles and declined the research. She had a life to live and four growing children to feed, but yet while she was washing the dishes, wiping grubby faces, trying to tame hair that would not lay flat on a head or some other mundane everyday task, the questions returned to nag her: _They were born as snakes, would they remain human? Would they transform back when their magic manifested? Would their humanity be leeched out of them too? _She knew her maternal instinct was fuelling her worry. Her children were conceived as snakes and transformed into three baby boys and one baby girl shortly after birth without any intervention. At four years of age they had reached their milestones and surpassed many of them. Thin, pale with the black baby curls their magic was not visible yet, but if lineage and genes were anything to go by they would be magical and intelligent as their parents- 

_Parent_, forcible Hermione corrected herself. She was the sole parent of this rambunctious brood. 

Perhaps she told herself, she should not worry about any latent effects of the transformation on her children? Perhaps she should worry more about them becoming like the man who happened to be their father: Severus Snape - that despicable, horrid man. He had never seen the children, let alone signed their birth certificates. He had escaped Hogwarts on the eve of their birth. Dumbledore's mumbled apology about Snape being called way to the Amazon was slightly incongruous. Yes, rapid extinction of rare flora and fauna was important, but to so blatantly miss your offsprings' birth? Hermione hoped Snape had apparated into a rabid troupe of Howler monkeys and suffered the consequences. 

_Why had he not stayed an adder?_ Hermione thought. There was so little human in him in the first place.

Other than the journal articles and the research requests Hermione had only one other contact with the world of transformations. She became acquainted with the only other living being who knew exactly what she had gone through. 

"Hermione?" Her mother's voice called from the hallway of the Granger family home. "Mr Filch is here to see you!"

Argus Filch, the Squib caretaker at Hogwarts was surprisingly knowledgeable on the topic of transformation. His cat, Mrs Norris had once been very human and very much the love of his life - before her jealous husband cursed her into a four-legged pussy. 

Over the last four year, the unlikely pair read articles and discussed the subject. With the encouragement of Dumbledore and other Hogwarts staff they had formed a strange, yet powerful friendship. Their talks provided a way to Hermione's mind busy, away from the mundane everyday tasks of childcare and in truth it provided comfort as well. 

Filch was also surprisingly good at burping colicky infants and changing nappies.

"I'm in the kitchen Mum!" Hermione called back, wiping the flour from her nose with an elbow. "Hello Argus." She said as the elderly caretaker entered the room, she pointed at the flour covered table and kitchen bench. "I'm baking."

Filch eyed the mess and creased his nose in distaste. Wasn't this what House Elves were for?  "Dumbledore asked me to see you were doing." He explained in his slow voice while giving her a sidelong look. "I bought some chocolate frogs for the ankle biters by ways of a birthday present."

"They're out in the garden." She told him, kneading a large ball of dough her shoulders working. "Playing football with my Dad."

Lifting his head Filch could hear the squeals and laughter through the steamed up windows. Nervously looking at Hermione he ran a hand over his balding pate and smoothed down his hair. "Little mites." He said gruffly. "Run the old bugger into the ground."

"They don't do too badly with you Argus." Hermione said with a chuckle, cutting the dough ball in half with a sharp knife and tossing one half into a buttered baking tin.

He smiled crookedly. "In my day children were seen and not heard."

"In your day children were dropped down chimneys by storks." Hermione admonished him as she molded the dough into the tin.

"Bloody birds." He complained. "It was all their missing the mark that messed up the youth of today, too many landing on their heads."

"You were saying that about me not five years ago."

Filch squirmed and grimaced uneasily. "Oh never you Miss Hermione."

"Go out and see them." Hermione suggested. "They'll be happy to see a familiar face."

"In a tic." He replied, wiping his newly shaven face. It was tender and pink from soap and razor. He assessed the lines of his chin with a critical finger hoping that his attempts at personal hygiene would not go unnoticed. "I was hoping to have a word with you first."

"Mr Filch is that a new suit?" Hermione's mother swept into the room and with her the smell of furniture polish and lavender. 

"Arh it is." He replied. 

Hermione slammed the oven door shut and turned to look at the man. "Argus, that is a new suit. Has someone died?"

"No one's died." He felt himself blushing under the scrutiny, so cleared his throat. "Yes it's a new suit, what of it?"

Hermione and her mother exchanged suspicious glances. "No reason…"

Filch looked as uneasy as he felt, finally he got enough courage to say. "I was hoping to have a word Miss Hermione?"

Again Mrs Granger exchanged a puzzled look with her daughter. 

"Sure." Hermione shrugged.

"I'll just go and see that the children haven't tied up Jerry to the washing line," Mrs Granger said going to the back door. "Or put Mrs Roberts' cat inside Mr Tonkins rabbit hutches - again."

"Poor Mr Moggie, "Hermione commented blithely. "Who knew bunnies could whip themselves into a bloodlust fenzy?"

"Once they taste the blood of the innocents they are nasty bastards." Filch replied.

Hermione smiled at him and he gave her a wink back. He cleared his throat under her scrutiny, straightened his tie and wrung his hands together. "Hermione?" He hunkered over and gave a sniff. "I have something to ask you." 

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

Meanwhile, in Dumbledore's office,

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…

"Oh dear, oh dear," Dumbledore stroked his beard and looked worried.

"What is it Albus? Minerva McGonagall asked looking over the rim of her glasses and putting her embroidery aside.

"This isn't going the way I planned it. No, not at all I as hoped."

"What is it dear?" The witch asked going over the Head Master as he looked into a penseive.

Albus did not look as he asked, "Could you get my orb sweetness?"

Minerva felt the tension slice through the air. "Your orb Albus? Which one?"

"The important one." He replied, flapping a liver spotted hand at her.

"The one you use on Tuesdays?"

"No, the one I keep on the back shelf covered by the Spice Girls handkerchief."

_Oh no, not that one!_ Minerva now felt the tension move into panic. Albus hadn't used that orb since – well, she could not remember when. The Spice Girl handkerchief was more of a deterrent than any ward to keep any unwelcome interest away. She went to the shelf and was not surprised to find her hands shaking as she lifted the opalescent orb from its hiding place and bought it to the Head Master's desk "What is it, Albus?" She asked, her voice trembling. "What is going on?"

"Argus Filch is about to make the mistake of his life and Merlin help us, Hermione Granger may help him do it!"

"Hermione!" Minerva felt her throat constrict. "What is Filch up to? What is he doing to her babies?"

Dumbledore did not answer, he was waving his wand over the special orb and peering into it intently. Finally after much huffing and sighing he relaxed, "Argus only has Hermione's best interest at heart Minerva, he is a misunderstood man… but proposing to the woman is not going to help our cause."

"Our cause?" Minerva looked into the orb and saw nothing but her upside down reflection. "What is it you see Albus?"

"We will need Miss Granger and her skills Minerva. Perhaps you read that article in the _Daily Prophet_ about the spate of deaths from owl scratchings in Bulgaria?"

Minerva shook her head. "No, it must have escaped my notice."

"It was only four lines but something about it sparked my interest. I foresee a terrible plague befalling our kind." Albus told her. "In fact I hear a voice in the back of my head telling me so. We must not let Hermione and Argus marry. I must take drastic measures."

Minerva had a sudden vision of Filch hanging from thumbscrews in the dungeons and Hermione Granger living in a cage. 

Albus waved his hand over the pearly ball again and began to incant some arcane spell she could not grasp. The orb seemed to expand for a moment then to glow and hum… By the time McGonagall looked away the orb was magnesium white and whistling. "There!" Dumbledore's voiced boomed over the room. "Got you!"

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

Argus Filch had managed to maneuver Hermione into a corner, having her wedged between the cooker and broom cupboard. He had asked her to marry him, showed her his mother's ring and given an eloquent speech about moving on and letting go. 

Hermione did not know what to say. The most terrifying thing was that he was convincing. He truly admired Hermione and he liked her children. She knew this it was irrefutable. He made no grand promises. He laid it on the line. He knew he was not a catch, that he was far from anyone's fantasy man, but he would never hurt her, he would take care of her and look after her children.

Hermione looked at the ring and saw her life play out before her. If she rejected Filch she would be alone. Harry and Ron had moved on with their lives, they were doing what any young wizards should be doing – sowing their wild oats, being irresponsible with alcohol and brooms and when they felt serious, working on their careers. She had not seen them in months. Babies and motherhood scared them, they did not who or what Hermione had become. To them she would always be: Hermione 'the girl who could have been'.

Her world had become microscopic since the quads birth. She ate, slept, read when she could and in between cared for the children. Snape provided no money he had cleverly avoided that. Hogwarts (via the Malfoys it was rumoured) gave her enough to survive… but survive was all she did. She had no life. Her world was an endless round of children. Argus was the only one from the magical realm she spoke to at any length. He was the only one she had to share her children's little moments with. If she rejected him, she would be alone in the world of Muggles, her children would be alone too and that scared her.

She had not answered Filch. She looked up at him. His breathing was fast and his tongue snaked out to lick his cracked lips. She was transfixed by a large bubble of spit at the corner of his mouth trapped between a collection of unshaved whiskers and capillary cracked skin.

"Argus?" She asked, feeling her heart treble its beat. "Yes." She said, her stomach feeling as if it had filled with lead. "I will marry you."

The caretaker sucked in a deep breath and exhaled through sneering yellowed teeth. "Ah my sweet." He said, his mouth falling open to reveal a writhing tongue. "Let me kiss you."

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

Severus Snape was halfway up a tree in the depths of the Amazon. 

Swatting away mites and flies, he fixed his gaze on a stunning example of lepidoptera. Firming his sweaty grip on the branch, he carefully aimed his wand at the jewel-winged butterfly and muttered. "Stupify." 

The insect froze in mid-flutter and started to spiral down through the thick humid air. 

Pocketing his wand into his beige walk shorts and sweeping his butterfly net through the air Snape found two things. First, that he was, in the possession of an unknown species of butterfly and second, he was being tugged by a giant invisible hand out of the canopy of the South American jungle to be plunked down rather unceremoniously onto someone's Axminster carpet in the middle of suburban Britain.

"What the hell!" He roared staggering to his feet and disentangling himself from the butterfly net, flicking his sticky sweat laden hair from his face as he took in his surroundings. 

"No! Don't!" A woman's cry from a nearby room spun him about. 

He stormed in the direction of the sound with every intention of ripping a shred of flesh off whoever had the audacity to interrupt his work. Not even thinking that his beige 'great white hunter' outfit looked completely ridiculous in the quiet setting of middle class English living room. As he reached the door, he came to an abrupt halt, his face paling and eyes widening in amazement. 

"Filch?" His gaze flicked between the squib and the woman the caretaker had cornered. The woman was still struggling in Filch's grip her breathing laboured and panicked.

"Professor Snape!" Filch hurriedly stepped back. Releasing the woman as he wheezed. "What are you doing here?"

"You!?" The woman shouted and Snape caught a glimpse of a seething red face before the backdoor swung open and an older man stepped inside. 

"Hermione," The older man said, "Sam has grazed his knee, could you get me a sticky plaster?" The man looked up and caught sight of Snape the pleasant expression on his face instantly becoming one of open antagonism.  "You! How dare you come here?"

Snape felt the hairs on his exposed spindly legs come to attention.  _Dear Merlin, the Grangers!_ "Dumbledore." He growled, his shoulders tensing, realizing he had been ambushed. "You will pay for this."

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

tbc


	18. part 18

DISCLAIMER: 

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books,

Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

If Snape owned a computer back in the eighties, he would have appreciated a flying toaster, but he hadn't and did not. He barely ducked out of the way as the four-slicer sailed past his head and impacted on the wall.

"Miss Granger!"

"Hermione!" Both Filch and her father added. Filch removing himself a respectable distance away from Hermione while Mr Granger entered the kitchen and retrieved the toaster from the floor.

"Where is Dumbledore?" Snape demanded, eyeing Filch with distaste.

"Not here." Filch replied uneasily. "I was just visiting Hermione and the little ones and…"

"Accosting Miss Granger?" He asked.

"Yer what?" Mr Granger looked at Filch with the same anger and confusion he had previously directed at Snape. Behind him his daughter was vigorously rubbing her mouth and tongue on her sleeve.

"Why not?" Defiantly Hermione lifted her head, spitting out a bit of fluff. "Argus is -" Her gaze dropped to the floor and wandered about the room. "He likes cats." She added shakily. 

"We're getting hitched." Filch added his face screwing up to resemble a sun-dried prune as he dragged Hermione to his side and draped his arm about her sagging shoulders. "Ain't she swanky? Would've thought a squib like me getting tied to a witch?"

Snape gaped at them – inwardly, outwardly his face looked like a piece of badly sculpted Stilton. She was insane. It was the only sensible reason. She let Filch kiss her and she … Dear Merlin had the whole world gone mad?

"Have you lost your mind Hermione?" Her father asked, looking as shocked as Snape felt.

"Dad-" she began, slipping out of Filch's clutches to hover near the kitchen sink. "It's really not that bad. Really…" She was not convincing anyone, except for Filch who puffed out his chest and put his thumbs into the lapels of his suit.

Snape hoped Hermione was quick on her feet as he felt slightly nauseous. He pinched himself to make sure he had not ingested some exotic fungal spore and this was not some sort of grotesque hallucination. Filch marrying Hermione? Ow! No, this was real.

"Mummy?" A small voice cried. "Mummy? Who's that man?"

Everyone in the room turned to consider the small boy who stood at the doorway.

"Grandad?" The little boy asked, looking up at the rumpled face of the older Granger. Mr Granger managed to swallow his astonishment enough to pat the boy on the head and give him a reassuring smile.

"It's alright Sam, perhaps he can tell you himself?"

"Over my dead body!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Don't tempt me," Snape muttered and eyed the boy as he entered the room. 

Sam looked at his mother, Filch, his Grandfather and finally returned his gaze to the tall dark haired man. The stranger returned his study with a stern, yet strangely familiar scowl. 

Sam spent a long time studying the man before he cautiously said, "Hello."

Snape did not reply, he simply looked down his nose as the child came further into the kitchen and stood right before him. He was irritated by the boy's manner. There must be some law about staring right back at an adult with such accusing eyes. 

"What is it?" Snape finally asked, tilting his head so that his sweaty hair clung to one cheek. "What is the matter with you boy?"

Sam blinked at the tone, but stood his ground, craning his head so far back he almost tipped over. "You're my father?" He stated. 

"Aye that he is lad." Filch replied. "Severus Snape."

Sam looked at Filch and frowned, he looked at his mother and shook his head. "Why doesn't he like me?"

Hermione stepped forward and put a hand on the boy's thin shoulder and squeezed it gently. "Yes Sam, this is Severus Snape and he doesn't know you to like you." The tremble in her voice was apparent to all who heard her. She smiled tightly, brushing a strand of black hair from her son's face. "Why don't you run outside and see that your brothers and sister are playing nicely?"

Sam slowly pulled his gaze away from his father and considered his mother's face, sucking in his bottom lip. "Hmm." He nodded, turning to go to the backdoor. But once there he paused to give his father one last assessing look before he vanished out of sight.

"Interesting child." Snape said.

"You will leave him alone!" Hermione picked up a spice rack and swung it up into the air, her eyes blazing. "You touch one hair on his head and I swear!"

"Swear what Ms Granger, that you will cover Severus with coriander?"

The spice rack clattered to the floor as Albus Dumbledore stepped into the kitchen. He surveyed its occupants with a tolerant eye. "Hello Severus, Argus, Mr Granger. You're lovely wife was kind enough to allow me in. I hope I'm not disturbing anything?"

"Ah… um." Mr Granger looked at the bejeweled wizard as if he were Father Christmas three months too early. "No, no, it's fine." He glanced at Filch who was sidling toward the door. "Would you like a pot of tea?"

"Tea?" Snape sneered. "You offer him tea- Where are you going Filch?"

"Hogwarts." The caretaker replied, ducking his head so as not to meet anyone's eye, "I'm expecting a consignment."

"Consignment?"

"Tripe."

"Tripe?"

"*Large*order, you know House elves, no concept of propriety."

"Before you go Argus." Albus' spoke out. "Ms Granger would like to give you back the ring."

Hermione blinked and looked at the small velvet box still clutched in her hand. She took a deep breath as everyone watched her with a mixture of trepidation and disgust. "Yes," she said, before speaking with a new determination. "I'm sorry Argus, no matter how convenient it would be I cannot marry you. Thank you for asking," She pushed the box across the kitchen bench where he picked it up and gazed at it deep in thought.

"Tripe," Albus jolted the squib caretaker from his musings.

"Yes." Filch nodded, "right you are Headmaster."  
  


Once Filch exited the kitchen and the front door slammed shut Snape turned on Dumbledore, "Why did you drag me here old man? I was right in the middle of very important research!"

Albus ignored Severus and smiled at Hermione taking her hands in his. "How are you Hermione? How are the children?"

She relaxed under his soothing influence and allowed herself to be led into the lounge. "They grow up so fast."  
  
"What an interesting Muggle decoration." Dumbledore commented. "Oh, it's a butterfly net."

"Don't touch that!" 

"You do the tea, dear," Mrs Granger patted her husband on the arm. "I'll round up the children." 

Mr Granger nodded, picked up the kettle and muttered. "Yes tea - with a good size dollop of whiskey."

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

tbc


	19. part 19

DISCLAIMER: 

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books,

Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

The tea was sweet and reassuringly familiar. It was also very welcome in the face of the peculiar people populating the Granger's peaches and cream living room.

Albus Dumbledore perched in his full wizard regalia on one of Mrs. Granger's Queen Ann chairs looking as unexpected as a Macaw in a garage. Snape was grouchily slouched in the other chair, smelling of jungle rot, his boots clogged with vegetation and his beige Great White Hunter outfit comically inappropriate. He carefully handled the end of his butterfly net examining the fantastic insect he had caught and pointedly ignoring the furtive glances being cast his way by the other occupants of the room.

The Grangers and Hermione were crammed all together on the sofa like a set of pottery owls. They were trying not to breath, sipping hot tea and uneasily glancing back and forth between each other.  

The silence continued. Dumbledore and the Grangers smiled occasionally, Snape fiddled with the net and Hermione stared at Snape's legs as if hypnotized. 

Hermione had never seen Snape's legs before and they fascinated her. They were long, finely muscled and covered with neat black hairs that swirled up to and about his bare knees. She found her gaze wandering up to the fabric of the shorts eager to see if the hair grew higher. She stopped with a jolt when she found herself looking directly at his crotch. Her top lip was lined with sweat and she licked it as she studied the fabric pulled tightly over the bulge that lay there. Hastily she flicked her gaze away and blushing took a mouthful of scalding tea and swallowed the painful lump with her gaze firmly directed toward the ceiling.

"Severus." Albus whispered to his fellow wizard, "I am sorry I caught you at a bad time."

Snape looked at him out the corner of his eye. "Yes, you did. But only you would drop me right into the middle of another _very_ bad time."

Dumbledore sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. "Need I remind you that your indiscretion led directly to the situation at hand?"

"Strange how you have a very selective memory about your staffs' indiscretions Albus?" Snape shot back, his voice growing louder, the butterfly net falling from his hands. "I at least was insensible to my motivations at the time. I seem to recall an incident where Hagrid got rip roaring drunk and was found curled up on a pile of squid sperm packets – spent squid sperm packets –" he wiped his mouth of spit, "and what came of that?"

Mrs. Granger choked on her Darjeeling causing her cup to clatter nosily on her saucer, while Mr. Granger sat bolt upright and stared at them in wonder.

Dumbledore shifted uncomfortably on his seat, trying to ooze calm and reason. "Severus we promised not to discuss that matter." He tried to laugh it off. "Besides the Giant Squid saw an animal psychologist and it was all nicely resolved."

"Which is why the creature cowered next to my dungeon wall every time Hagrid ventured into the lake?"

"Severus, please this is not helping." 

"Do you know how distracting it is to have a Giant Squid trying to get in through your porthole?"

"No, but I can imagine Hagrid does." Hermione murmured.

Mrs. Granger made a small eeping noise and Mr. Granger tightly gripped her hand. "What sort of school are you running Dumbledore?" He demanded. "Sea creatures and your staff doing heaven only knows what, my daughter transformed into a snake and-" He waved an accusatory finger at Snape, "him! He pops out of thin air and prances about as if he owns the place, upsetting everyone. Well, I won't have it!" He climbed out of his chair and shouted, "He's done nothing for my girl, nothing for those children. That's it, get out now!"

Silently Mrs. Granger got to her feet. "I must see to the children," Leaving the room, her hands shaking. "Must see if the little ones are alright."

Snape clutched his butterfly net to his body and stood up. "What do you mean 'done nothing'?"

"Of course, how stupid of me, you knocked her up and then you scarpered!" Mr. Granger was past dangerously angry and moving into terminal velocity. "How dare you stand there with a smug look on your face. Where I come from what you did was Statutory Rape. You were bloody lucky we did not go to the authorities!

"Actually Mr. Granger, Hermione was of age." Albus was attempting diplomacy in the face of a full frontal assault. "Even without benefit of the Time Turner she was over the age of consent."

Mr. Granger did not know what to say or to do, but it coalesced into one thing: he was going to punch Snape. He was going to mash that oversize honker into that pasty face of his and be done with it! 

Snape never saw what hit him.

"Bherlin's balls!" Snape was bent over clutching his nose, his eyes watering as he stumbled backward, seeing stars. The butterfly net clattered to the floor and the butterfly escaped to dance in the air between them. "You bhastard!" He sprayed blood all over the front of his shirt and the peach damask sofa. "Bhou've bhroen mah bhloody bhose!" He hunched over and reached for his wand.

"Severus!" Albus put a restraining hand on him. "I believe the Grangers want us to go?"

"You good for nothing!" Mr. Granger ranted, his face an unhealthy purple colour. "Those children deserve better than you!"

"Bharbharhian." Snape seethed, blood and mucus dripping down his chin. "Bhuggle ijut!" 

Mr. Granger was winding up for another roundhouse when Hermione stepped into the fray.

"Dad!" She wailed, "No, please. Stop."

Granger looked at his daughter and the anger drained away from his face. "I'm sorry sweetheart," he murmured, rubbing his knuckles, "but it's been a long time coming."

"Calm down Dad. I'm a big girl now I can fight my own battles."

Hermione went up to Snape and conjured up a handkerchief. "Here," she pressed it into his hands. "Stop spraying blood everywhere and use this."

For a moment Snape swayed on his feet as if collecting himself. He studied the handkerchief before he clutched it and wiped his bulging beak with it. "Bhank bou."

An uneasy silence fell. Out in the back garden the squeals and laughter of children could be heard. The butterfly had landed on the sofa and was tentatively drinking a drop of Snape's splattered blood. 

The blooded wizard looked about the room distastefully. Blowing his nose noisily and painfully he stiffened as if irritated beyond measure and asked,  "With all the money I sent you, why do you choose to bring up our children up here? Why aren't you living in Hogsmeade or some other magical village?"

"Excuse me?" The young witch stared at him, "Money?"

"What money?" Granger interjected.

"The galleons I sent you." Snape searched Hermione's face with frank amazement. _Dear Circe_, he thought. The woman nearly accepts Filch's hand in marriage, has no idea about the money he's been sending her for years and was bringing up their children here – in the worst example of a Muggle house imaginable. All this did not bode well for a balanced psyche. Perhaps she was as clearly deranged as her father? Is this what carrying transformed children did to you? No wonder the only other records were mythical.

"Fifty galleons a month for the last four years?" He repeated testily, snorting on the blood running down the back of his throat. He tipped his head back and put the handkerchief to the bridge of his nose to stem the flow. "What sort of person do you think I am?" He gritted his uneven teeth and coughed. "Alive or dead I would ensure my children had support." 

"That's Malfoy's money." Hermione whimpered.

"It most assuredly is not!" Snape dropped his head, only to clutch his nose in annoyance. "Argh!"

"Yes it is!" 

"It's time for us to go Severus." The Head Master came up and tried to steer the injured man toward the door.

Snape shook off Dumbledore's hand, wiped the blood from his chin with an angry flick and demanded. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

Hermione and Mr. Granger focused their gazes on the Head Master just as he reached the door. Feeling the weight of the stares the old wizard stopped and his shoulders sagged under his opulent crimson robes. 

"Ah." He cleared his throat and faced them, smiling apologetically at the group. "I believe I have some explaining to do."

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

tbc

  
  



	20. part 20

DISCLAIMER: 

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books,

Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

Hermione and Mr Granger focused their gazes on the Headmaster just as he made it to the door. Feeling the weight of the stares the old wizard stopped. His shoulders sagging under his opulent crimson robes. 

"Ah." He cleared his throat and faced them, smiling apologetically at the group. "I believe I have some explaining to do."

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

Snape snorted loudly and sat back into a chair so swiftly it made the resting butterfly flutter up into the air. 

Hermione looked as Snape nonplussed followed the butterfly's wobbly course as it floated toward her father and watched it divert over to Dumbledore, who raised his hands and allowed the insect to settle on his finger.

"Yes, it was Severus's money." The elderly wizard began. "I felt it necessary for subterfuge due to the hostility on both sides."

"Asinine." Snape retorted, dabbing the drying blood from his nose with the ruined handkerchief. "Totally idiotic!"

Dumbledore nodded slightly. "Perhaps…"

"I agree." Hermione spoke. "I have to admit that at first I did not embrace the idea of being pregnant, but I came to terms with it. It surprised me that you-" She glanced at Snape, then quickly away in response he rolled his eyes and Dumbledore looked as if he were sucking on a sweet. "Did not want anything to do with the children. Yet I accepted it. I would hope that we are mature enough to move on?"

This statement was met with resounding silence. The butterfly elegantly sat on the Headmaster's extended finger, opening and closing its bejeweled wings.

"Okay, " Hermione conceded, flicking back her hair. "Perhaps it would have taken some time for me to accept _his_ money, but it would have been nice to know that my children's father was paying support."

"Yes." Snape agreed. "The least both of us could do."

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose in astonishment and slowly descended as the butterfly set off again and floated up to the peak of his wizard's hat. The butterfly settled on the tip of Dumbledore's hat and slowly rotated about showing off its sparkling wings. The old man clasped his hands upon his chest, oblivious to the display. "I apologise for underestimating both of you, but I had my reasons."

A strange grinding sound filled the air and everyone looked at Mr. Granger who was gnashing his teeth, "Which we are waiting to hear!" The man finally demanded, his hands clenching into fists. "You assume too much Dumbledore! You take too many chances and justify them with emotional claptrap! My grandchildren had the right to know their father – no matter how despicable he is – was providing for them."

"There were reasons." Dumbledore gave a lopsided shrug. "Do you have a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ from two days ago?" He asked Hermione.

"No." Hermione replied. "We read the _Quibbler_." 

"Dear Merlin." Snape sniffed in disbelief. "That _thing_ doesn't even have a crossword."

"There was an article in it about the spate of deaths from owl scratches in Bulgaria."

"And a lovely knitting pattern." Snape jeered. "Get to the point Albus."

The old wizard considered Snape. "Correct me if I am wrong Severus, but you are doing research on potions that address prion diseases?"

"What of it?" The man replied, crossing his legs, pulling down the ends of his shorts and rubbing his knobby knees. "It is common knowledge. There are research teams in the depths of Amazon, Congo, Siberia… Wolverhampton."

"Four years ago the Department of Mysteries sent me a note about a prophecy." He paused and puffed out his chest.  "One that is directly related to Ms. Granger and yourself. I had almost forgotten about it until I saw the article and made the connection. It is imperative that you go and hear the prophecy. It has something to do with you both and the future of magic."

"Oh no…" Hermione sighed.

"Not Trelawney again." Severus groaned and roughly pocketed the bloodied handkerchief. "That woman has been responsible for more misinterpretation and false hopes than a Muggle horoscope. They should close that department down for total stupidity!"

"Now, now Severus, she has a over a fifty percent accuracy."

Hermione and Snape shared an incredulous look, but it was Snape who muttered. "Codswollop!"

"Not this time Severus. It may interest you to know that it wasn't Sybil." Dumbledore lowered his head and voice. 

"Well, who the blazes was it?"

"Would you believe -" The old man lifted his head and smiled. "Peeves?"

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

tbc


	21. part 21

DISCLAIMER: 

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

"Not Trelawney again." Severus groaned and roughly pocketed the bloodied handkerchief. "That woman has been responsible for more misinterpretation and false hopes than a Muggle horoscope. They should close that department down for total stupidity!"

"Now, now Severus, she has a over a fifty percent accuracy."

Hermione and Snape shared an incredulous look, but it was Snape who muttered. "Codswollop!"

"Not this time Severus. It may interest you to know that it wasn't Sybil." Dumbledore lowered his head and voice. 

"Well, who the _blazes_ was it?"

"Would you believe -" The old man lifted his head and smiled. "Peeves?"

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

"Peeves?" Snape did not know if he actually managed to articulate the name, but he certainly did see a flash of red before his eyes before he managed to focus on Dumbledore.

Mr. Granger looked confused, "Peeves! Who the hell is Peeves?"

"A ghost," Hermione replied softly, shaking her head as if she were dazed. "I did not know that Poltergeist could do that? I thought Divination was only for the living."

"Or those who like to cause trouble," Snape snapped, pointedly glaring at Dumbledore.

"His prophecy would not have been stored it were simply 'cauldron stirring', Severus."

Mr. Granger put his head in his hands and groaned, "I think I'm going to be ill. Can't you people just live simple uncomplicated lives?"

"Mummy! Samson stole Minny!" The moment was cut short by the unexpected arrival of four dark haired children who barged into the room and chased each other about giggling and shouting loudly. "Mum!"

"Sam!"

"Nanana!"

Snape looked down at his offspring in horror and tried to back away,  "Ah yes children." Yet as if attached by an invisible bungee cord the children came about him, swirling, springing away for an instant only to bounce back against him bodily. In the end he gave up standing and sank to a peach damasked chair as they used him as some sort of living jungle gym and hiding place.

Hermione stifled an inappropriate chuckle at his predicament. It surprised her that Snape did not shout at the little one's or physically remove them from his person, realistically she supposed Dumbledore's presence had a lot to do with that, but as she watched the Ursula sit down on Snape's lap and look up at his reddened nose, chattering away nineteen to the dozen about her favourite doll and how Sam was a 'meanie', she felt something else inside of her. Swiftly she clapped her hands bringing the commotion to order and vanishing the feeling inside. "Children," she said and hunkered down so that they came to her, "This is your father, Severus Snape. 

"Oh we know Mummy, Sam tol' us." Ursula replied brightly.

Hermione sighed and glanced at Sam who was scuffing his toes on the carpet. "Well then, why don't we show some manners and go say hello politely?"

Snape rose out of his chair and stood over them peering down the crooked line of his nose.

There was a collection of mumbled 'hellos' and one 'politely' as the children snuck glances between the imposing man and their mother. Ursula turned away and went to Hermione pulling her down to whisper into her ear. Snape arched an eyebrow at once she had reassured the girl and straightened up. 

Hermione smirked back at him, "She asked how long you're staying?"

"I hardly think… My research…" Snape scowled and found his gaze drawn down to the four expectant faces, something inside him clicked at the sight and he felt a streak of fierce emotion slice through him. "We must go to the Ministry, deduce the meaning of this prophecy before I can make any further plans." 

"Are you staying?" A small voice piped up, it was one of the twins.

Hermione looked at Snape with a mixture of pathos and pity and when he did not answer immediately answered. "He doesn't know yet Nicky."

"Ohh…" A sad murmur came from the children.

"He can sleep in my room with Minny!" Ursula exclaimed her dark curls bobbing on her head as she nodded vigorously.

"Yes!" The boys agreed.

"Children," Hermione bent down to them and her eyes pricking with sudden tears said, "You must understand that your father-"

A hand came down on Hermione's shoulder halting her words, "Would love to stay a few days," Snape quickly added, removing his hand as he felt Hermione turn and look up at him in wonder, "However at a different venue. My family home perhaps?"

"Oh yes!" The children started to bounce and jump about the room going to smug looking Dumbledore and swirling about his robes before dashing to their grandfather in a gleeful hubbub.

Hermione was lost for words. She stood facing Snape, "You have no idea… It's so generous-- I--" She choked and impulsively leant forward to kiss his rough cheek, "Thank you." She stepped back and shyly touched her mouth.

Snape blinked at Hermione in confusion. A strange sense of calm and reason enveloping him, he could still smell her scent, a mixture of pheromones and heat that thrummed deep in his body, rekindling deep instinctual memories and need. It was plain for all to see that something had changed between them in those few insignificant minutes in her parent's living room.

"Yes," he finally muttered, his ears ringing, "Quite alright," He felt his face relax and his shoulders unknot, he almost smiled.

Hermione tilted her head at him and almost smiled too, but Mrs. Granger bustled in.

"Oh dear!" The flustered woman burst into the room, "I'm sorry dear, they got away on me. Come along now children, upstairs, wash your hands and faces." She shepherded the children toward the door that led to the hall, but Sam hung back scowling at his father over his shoulder.

"When are we going to your house?"

"When we get back Sam." Hermione replied, "Don't worry so."

"There's something disconcertingly familiar about that child." Snape muttered when they all finally could be heard ascending the stairs.

"There should be," She smiled warmly, "you are his father."

Again a net filled with butterflies struck Snape in his stomach. He was a father and these were his children… '_his_ children' and as he looked at Hermione unbidden words rang in his head and she was '_his_ mate'. His chest puffed up with pride and possessiveness while a flash at anger at the thought of Filch being anywhere within three feet of his territory made his hands curl into fists. They were his and he would protect them or die trying!

"Shall we go to the Ministry?" Dumbledore asked pleasantly, "Listen to the prophecy and sort out what the future?"

"No." Snape replied. "This is untenable. Peeves, of all the beings in the universe? How could anyone listen to that pile of musty vapor?"

Dumbledore smiled at him and shook his head, "Ah Severus, how I've missed your sense of humour."

"I wasn't joking."

"Oh I know my boy, neither was I. It is still very amusing how you are so rigid. A little flexibility could give you the world." And with that Dumbledore clasped both a startled Hermione's hand and Snape's elbow and with a quick incantation they _apparated_ away.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

tbc  (nearly finished)


	22. part 22

DISCLAIMER: 

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

Dumbledore smiled at him and shook his head, "Ah Severus, how I've missed your sense of humour."

"I wasn't joking."

"Oh I know my boy, neither was I? It is still very amusing how you are so rigid. A little flexibility could give you the world." And with that Dumbledore clasped both a startled Hermione's hand and Snape's elbow and with a quick incantation they _apparated_ away.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

The Hall of Mysteries in the Ministry was as always a hall that happened to be mysterious. Atmospheric shadows clung to the walls and shifted about like lost figures from portraits following the small incongruent group of two wizards and one witch down to the Prophecy Room.

"Why doesn't the Ministry spend some of our tax payer money on adequate lighting?" Snape complained rubbing his arms and feeling the hairs on his legs stand to attention as they past another chilly dark doorway, "Or central heating?

"That would be too inviting," Dumbledore replied kindly, " We wouldn't want a tour group to find their way down here and think this was the way to the men's room. There are certain things down here that don't do well with sudden bursts of light or sprinkles of water."

Snape harrumphed and wiped his greasy hair out of his eyes pausing to appreciate the view of Hermione's swaying backside as she walked a few steps ahead of him. 'Muggle clothing certainly has some advantages', he mused, wondering at the same time where that thought had come from.

"Ah, here we are," Dumbledore smiled and indicated a door that led into a room lined with shelves and glowing glass jars that looked like _remembrials_. "You should be able to find your prophecy quite easily, they are stored alphabetically."

Hemrione immediately went to the shelves and studied the labels, moving along with practiced ease as if she were in a library scanning the shelves for an interesting book. Snape came up behind her, close enough for her bottom to nudge against him as she moved. Scowling he scrutinized the jars, his nostrils filling with her scent and his hands suddenly itching to rise up and grasp her waist as she went up on tiptoes to look at the top shelf. "Here," he gruffly reached past her to retrieve a jar, "This is it."

He handed it to her and instantly met her shy glance as she raised her face upward. Staring at each other they stood transfixed all thought and action fled in the rising tide of heartbeats and breathing. Gently Hermione lifted her hands and her fingers wrapped about the glass orb and pulled it from Severus' loosening grasp. 

"Your nose is bleeding." She quietly noted and, dumbstruck, Snape saw her step away. He blinked, realized he was behaving as if he had been pole-axed.

"Thank you." He touched his face and muttering, extracted his wand to attend to the bleeding. 

"The prophecy?" Dumbledore's voice reminded them they were not alone. "Would you like to open it Ms. Granger?"

Hermione managed to undo the lid and with a small whoosh Peeves cackling voice filled the air.

There was little surprise that it was a limerick of sorts. Rhyming puns about of owls, prions, research and a time traveling son. Onto to stuff of a plague to come and then what really seemed to be a political statement about how 'spectral beings' were outside the space-time continuum and therefore could perform divination because they were privy to the future, present and the past and it was in their celestial contract; except people got so wound about the whole haunting and scaring aspect they forgot about that one and assumed it was only for flighty gaudily dressed mortals… and finally descended into a hissing sound as if Peeves had formed a slow leak.

"What is he doing?" Hermione muttered, her hand rising to her breasts as the sound slowly slithered about her.

"I believe that's Parseltongue," Dumebledore glanced at her noting her respiration rate had quickened and glancing at Severus, saw that he too was flushed and vibrating with tension, "How very peculiar…" He blithely stated, "Didn't know Peeves spoke snake, did you Severus?"

Snape felt very odd- clammy, afraid, yet hopeful. He swayed drunkenly on his feet and shook his head to clear it, "No, no idea Head Master." His voice was unusually deep and throaty. He 'felt' rather than saw Hermione respond and was instantly inordinately proud that he could elicit such a response.

"What did he say?" Hermione came up beside him, invading his personal space and gripping his arm.

Severus gulped and looked down at her, aware that she dropped the wound glass orb from her hand, amazed by shock of feeling that skittered through him at her touch. She stumbled into him, pressing her firm body up against his, grabbing hold and hanging on to his arm, her breasts rubbing against his chest. "He said…" his mind blanked as she pressed into him again, his mouth suddenly dry, "that of all snakes in the world, one word amongst all others would set the story straight…"

She turned her flushed face up so she could look into his eyes, her own dark and heady, "What word?" she breathed.

"A triggering word…" He found his voice trailing off as he raised his hands and twined them into her hair, cradling her face, watching her mouth open and the pink tip of her tongue dart out to wet her lips. He tipped his chin just slightly, glimpsing Dumbledore smiling and not caring a jot, "between mates. One word… between us… to fix it all."

"If you'll excuse me…" The Head Master interrupted, but it was as if had not spoken a word. "I should be going now."

"There's an 'us' to fix?" Hemrione asked, her eyes never leaving his face.

"Unless you prefer Filch?" he replied, the head of a decapitated snake could still bite.

"I'll drop an owl to Ms. Grangers parents, shall I?"

"The children liked Argus." Hermione explained, her other hand climbing up his chest, feeling the heat of him through the fabric of his shirt.

"And?"

"That's all, Severus," Hermione studied his face, reached up and smudged the last of the dried blood from his cheek, "I may call you Severus?"

He trapped her fingers in his hand and held them, staring into her eyes, "Certainly – Hermione."

She dropped her gaze and bit her lip, "What about your Amazonian research?"

"I have collected all the flora and fauna I require, the rest can be done in Britain. In fact, it would be better to work in Europe where the disease is most prevalent. There is the possible added bonus of one particularly intelligent and skilled witch being available to partner me?"

"So there is an 'us' to fix?"

"It would seem that destiny has presaged it."

"Oh…" 

Dumbledore paused at the door. He could not mistake the note of disappointment in Hermione's voice and was dreading what Snape was going to say next. 

  
Fortunately the limit on miracles in the Prophecy room had not been exceeded. 

"Oh damnation! I mean…" Snape fumbled with his words, he could not tear his eyes away from the woman in his arms. Her scent filled his head making him dizzy. Her body fitted against his all curves and softness and her eyes, her lips… He stared at her lips… He wanted to feel those lips pressed against his and he was prepared to do anything to have that wish fulfilled, anything, even beg.

"Hermione?" Softly, almost grumbling, "Yes. If you'll have me?"  

Dumbledore did not wait for Hermione's answer. He went through the door and as he closed it called out, "Goodbye. I'll see you at Hogwarts in a week!" 

Unfortunately once outside the room Dumbledore found a very cross Percy Weasley waiting for him. The young wizard stood with clipboard in hand, officious nose in the air and his wizard hat set to precise ninety-degree angle. "There are clear procedures for visiting this department, Professor Dumbledore." His voice was officious and self-important holding just enough crispness to one day promise to be glacial, "Where is the Ministry _pensieve_ and the Officer of Spent Prophecies?  Can I see your section 34(a) and the accompanying pink form from the Minister?"

"Oh please! Don't get your knickers in a twist, Mr. Weasley." The Head Master patted the younger wizard on the shoulder and tried to steer him away.

Percy was not so easily duped, he shrugged off the old man's hand and stomped his foot, "I really must protest Dumbledore!"

"Please do. This way."

A muffled moan and the sound of deep laughter came from the other side of the door.

"What is going on in the Prophecy room?"

Dumbledore stopped and considered Percy over the rim of his glasses, "Really Mr. Weasley, do you think in all the years of our acquaintance I would allow it to be anything 'nasty'?"

Percy frowned at him, "Pardon?" Allowing himself in his befuddlement to be led away.

"Lemon drop?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

the end

Thank you one and all.

Somehow I sense an 'epilogue' is required.


End file.
